


Fractured Bloodline

by BucketsofButterflies



Category: fire emblem awakening
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-15 03:26:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 286,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14782775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BucketsofButterflies/pseuds/BucketsofButterflies
Summary: A young woman wakes up in a field with no memory of how she got there, and unable to speak.But the loss of her voice soon becomes the least of her worries.Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.





	1. Prologue: Once Upon a Time

Her first memory was a butterfly.

It fluttered out from the shadows of the trees, smoky black wings trailing behind it like wet ink. As she watched, entranced, golden whorls and curlicues formed along the wings.

A pattern of wonder mapping itself across her heart.

Hardly daring to hope, she stretched out her hand—two fingers extended—and held as still as a six-year-old could, just as she'd seen her mother do when she thought no one was looking.

To her delight, the butterfly accepted the invitation, just as the ravens did for her mother.

Laughter burbled up in her throat as the butterfly continued to fan its wings. The thin golden filigree marking the wings swam in mesmerizing patterns, not yet content with the shapes they had found.

She leaned in as close as she dared, a name for the butterfly already on her lips, when a cry broke the silence, if not quite the spell.

“Robin!” Her mother’s voice cracked, a sudden strand of lightning, all sharp and jagged along the edges. The world shivered with the word as her name settled deep inside her.

For a moment the forest went impossibly still and silent. Then her name, firmly rooted, brought back the sun-dappled leaves, the cool breeze, and the nearly invisible swirl of magic.

Not yet aware of the danger, she smiled up at her mother and nodded toward her hand.

Her mother tamed birds, and she charmed butterflies. As though sensing her jubilation, the magic dusting the shadows bunched itself together, preparing itself to rise.

Out of the shadows.

Into the light of day.

All they needed was a name.

A name trembling on the tip of her tongue.

Her mother’s brows snapped together, marred only by a worry line creasing the center. Frowning, she slapped Robin’s hand, in one movement destroying the butterfly and the magic waiting to be spoken into existence.

It was the look on her face, however, that Robin recoiled from. For it cast a shadow so terrible, it would always linger in the back of Robin’s mind, coloring the shape that was her mother forever after.

A moment passed.

And then the terrible shadow turned back into a woman with silver hair and dark green eyes who smiled infrequently, and worried incessantly.

“Do you want to be found?” her mother demanded, catching Robin’s arm and dragging her away from the forest and back to the dirt road that led to the village. “And where are your gloves?”

Robin’s lip trembled as she stared down at the red splotch on the back of her hand. The sting of it pulsed in time with her heart, and though her vision wavered with a few momentary tears, she didn't let them fall.

That was a lesson her father had taught her early on, and his shadow was far more terrible than even the darkest fury of her mother.

“No,” she whispered when she was sure her voice would hold.Shame-facedly, she pulled her gloves out of her pocket and slipped them on, careful to cover the curve of violet lines marring her right hand. Then, because she knew it would be expected, even if she didn't quite understand why, “I'm sorry, Mother.”

Her mother stiffened, and the crease in her brow furrowed a little deeper. “Have you forgotten? Your very blood binds you to both the past—”

“—And the future,” Robin recited dutifully, the words on her tongue before she had even thought to look for them. And in that moment of falling into the familiar, the fear and confusion slipped away.

“And?” Her mother sniffed, not yet convinced that the lesson had properly taken.

“And,” Robin tossed her head to hide the face she was making, “I mustn't work magic or speak to strangers.” Or do anything interesting or fun. She frowned at the mutinous thoughts, but couldn't find it in herself to disagree.

If her mother had her way, Robin would be little more than an obedient wisp of a shadow. Seldom seen, and never heard. A pretty flower pressed between the pages of a book that was never meant to be discovered, let alone picked up and read.

Even though she wasn't sure what a destiny was, or what it had to do with her, she could already feel bits and pieces of herself withering and crumbling beneath its weight.

As they continued down the path, their shadows lengthened. Her mother’s hair now tangled in her skirts below her knees, and there were new lines about her eyes and in the corners of her mouth.

Robin herself grew a little taller with each step, but it was by such a little bit that she didn't notice between this step and the next. Only after she had walked a hundred more did she realize she now stood shoulder height to her mother.

Her childish dress had gone, to be replaced by sturdy boots and more grownup apparel. She frowned, missing the swish of her skirts.

“And why is that?” her mother persisted, dark eyes scouring the very depths of Robin’s soul.

Now it was Robin’s turn to furrow her brow. The answer had never made sense to her, but it had always been important to her mother that she got the words exactly right.

“Because the magic is enough to wake the gods and summon the demons.”

Her mother nodded sharply, once. But there was one final lesson to be spoken aloud, and it was Robin’s least favorite.

They stopped just outside the village gate.

“And what will happen if either gods or demons ever find you?”

“They will eat me,” she whispered with a reverence reserved only for monsters that hid in the blackest corners of the night, lying in wait to make a meal of the unwary.

Satisfied, her mother reached into the shadow of an elm tree and shook out something deeply purple with a flash of gold. She held out the greatcoat to her daughter, her lips pursed, and her hands trembling only slightly.

She had long known this day might come, just as she had feared it. She could only hope that this story would have a happy ending.

And that Robin would forgive her one day for doing what must be done.

Robin readily slipped her arms into the coat, standing still for a moment as the weight of the coat settled on her shoulders, holding her steady and filling her with courage.

Except for a tiny spot in the corner of her heart. Now that she was aware of it, she shifted uncomfortably. It was dark and cold and empty. And, oh, so very hungry.

She looked up at her mother who had been watching her silently in a way that felt as though Robin was being weighed, and her mother wasn't sure if she had found something wanting.

“You must be brave, Robin. For gods and demons are not all that walk upon the earth.”

Robin nodded, the hazy memory of different faces parading across her mind’s eye, and the unsettling notion that she'd lived a thousand lives between the butterfly in the forest until she'd arrived at the place she now stood.

Her mother pressed her lips into a fine line as though saying, ‘This is the best I've got, so there's no use hoping for better, and no time to be wishing for more.’

“Will you come with me?” She held out her hand and raised a snow white brow. “Now?”

Robin gazed at the village entrance, wondering why this one was any different from all the others they'd walked through before.

“I have a choice?”

Her mother nodded. “You must come with me of your own free will.”

She looked back toward the way they'd come. “And if I don't?”

Some of the villages, she remembered mistily, had been less than pleasant and more than unbearable.

Her mother's eyes flashed, but she kept her expression carefully neutral. “Then you will go back to the forest, back to the time before, where you will fade into nothingness. The gods and demons would both be at a loss, but it is always possible that one or the other could pull you back into reality.”

Robin gulped, her breath suddenly gone. “What would the difference be?”

Her mother gave her a mirthless smile. “The difference is that here, I'm asking. You have a choice. Both gods and demons, I'm afraid, consider themselves a little above such considerations.”

Robin shivered. Another question hovered on the edge of her tongue, but her mother shook her head.

“Are you coming?”

Feeling as though the world had turned upside down and landed on her shoulders, Robin did her best to breathe. It was only the knowledge that she would much rather face either gods or demons—please don't let it be both—with her mother by her side that allowed her to step forward.

The world rippled as she put her hand in her mother’s.

For a moment, her mother’s expression softened until Robin could almost see the girl that she had been.

“You might just save us after all,” she whispered.

Before Robin could ask exactly what she meant by that, her mother was pulling her up to the village gate.

“I shall be with you always, even if you don't remember how exactly. Don't forget to check your pockets, and keep the keys you find safe.”

“Wha—” Robin gasped as her mother pulled her with an iron grip.

“I've placed a book inside your pack. Don't worry. It's attuned to you, so you can't lose it.” Her mother shoved the gate aside and soldiered on.

Robin shuddered as she met with stiff resistance. It was as though an invisible barrier had formed around the entrance for the express purpose of refusing her entry.

And it was starting to grow teeth.

“What book?” Robin gritted through a clenched jaw as pinpricks of pain soon turned to needles and thorns that tore at her flesh as she pressed deeper into the entrance.

“It holds all the answers,” her mother sounded breathless now, and beads of sweat were forming along her hairline.

“Answers?” Robin cried as the needles and thorns turned to swords and daggers intent on impaling her.

“To the questions you won't remember to ask and the questions you never knew you needed to know.” Her mother was straining now against something neither of them could see.

“I don't understand!” Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. She couldn't bear much more of this, but her mother’s face was set in a way that clearly indicated they would press on or die trying.

Robin hoped very much that wouldn't be the case.

“And you won't.” Her mother gasped for air. “But none of that matters. What matters is that he finds you.”

“What?” Robin shouted, the pain lacing through each and every letter, pinning them in place.

“May his heart guide yours, because you're the missing piece she didn't know to look for!”

“I don't underst—”

“Trust him. That's all you need to understand.”

By now the pressure and pain were ringing in her ears and threatening to tear her to pieces. She almost begged for her mother to turn back, away from the biting pain.

Then, unexpectedly, she felt the invisible barrier shift slightly against the whole of her body. And so she asked the one question her mother might answer without turning it into a maze of riddles.

“Who?”

“Chrom!”

And then the barrier gave way to the sound of shattering glass, and Robin felt herself falling. Such a thing would have normally been alarming, but all she could muster was relief that she'd escaped from the torture they'd been wading though.

Just as she let out a breath and allowed herself to hope again, whatever was on the other side of the barrier burst into violet flames and dark laughter that frightened her more than the pain of the crossing.

But it was too late now. She had fallen far enough that she'd finally found the ground, and it met her with its own bone crushing welcome.

Silver pain lanced through her head, and Robin cried out as darkness swooped down and swallowed her whole.

It smelled strangely of clover and sunshine.


	2. Chapter One

Purple fire crackled in her mind while the scent of earth and the buzz of insects beckoned her toward . . . something else . . .

. . . Something warm . . .

She fought against the starless night that had her trapped within its inky depths.

Wet ink trailing hope . . .

. . . A butterfly . . .

A promise . . .

. . . A warning . . .

The images of her dream fractured, broken glass that shredded thought, darkness dripping through the cracks. And . . . someone . . . someone important vanishing . . .

Taking a part of her heart with them.

She clawed against the unrelenting nothingness that had become her existence. Screamed until her throat was raw with fire.

_Bright fire devouring worlds. Cackling with glee until all that was left was gray ash._

How did one escape a world that had no top, no bottom, no meaningful way to orient oneself?

Was this death?

. . . Or something in between?

Madness, perhaps?

Whatever it was, she clung to it, a stubborn barnacle that wept diamonds and dreamed of sunlight.

And in those dreams, she leapt into a puddle of sunshine the size of her heart.

“What do you think happened?” An airy voice pressed itself into her consciousness, pulling her from shattered glass and hopeless wandering.

Something rustled near her head, and she could almost feel the weight of the shadow blocking the sun. Her heart sped up, thumping against her rib cage. Her body wanted to open her eyes and leap to her feet, but she hadn't quite shaken off the paralysis of her dreams yet.

“No obvious wounds,” a deeper voice observed, and something about it reminded her of sunlight and . . . something she could almost remember.

She knew that voice.

But how?

“Yet she breathes,” a third voice remarked, deeper than the others. Even with her eyes closed, she knew it was frowning with polite disapproval.

“I don't know, Lissa,” the second voice continued. “Perhaps she fell asleep?”

“Really, Chrom? Right here on the side of the road where bandits or who knows what could attack her?” Lissa said before fretting some more. “What are we going to do?”

_Chrom. She had found Chrom._

But what was a Chrom, exactly, and why did cool relief slip through her fears?

A brief silence fell over them, and she managed to move just enough to work at prying her eyelids open. She blinked against a searing light that blurred the world into a mess of color with no distinct shapes or lines.

“Well, what do you propose we do?”

“I don't know.” Lissa’s voice resolved itself into a sunny girl a few years younger than herself. Her golden hair was gathered into pigtails, and a worry line had worked itself between her eyes. “But we have to do something.”

The man standing next to Lissa noticed her watching them. He started, and his expression softened into a smile.

“Ah, I see you're awake now.” Then, smirking a little at Lissa, the blue-haired man continued, “There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know.”

Lissa smiled and gave her a friendly little wave while he extended his arm toward her.

“Here, give me your hand.”

She placed her hand in his almost automatically, frowning at the purplish mark on the back her hand while he helped her to her feet.

The mark meant something, but what? And why did she suddenly feel sick to her stomach?

“Whoa, easy there,” he said as she staggered. A blinding pain exploded in her head, right behind her eyes. “Are you hurt?”

She clutched her head, willing the pain to cease, the world to stop spinning, and for her stomach not to upend itself.

“Lissa,” he murmured, shifting to support her weight better.

“On it.”

_Chrom. His name was Chrom._

__

__

_He had kind eyes, and Lissa—_

A flash of green light, and then a warmth invaded her senses. The pain she was drowning in receded enough that she could order her panicked thoughts and breathe again.

The sensation was a lot like how she imagined being dipped in sunshine would feel. It smoothed away her aches and pains while warming her as it curled itself around her in a protective shell.

She blinked and straightened, managing to keep her balance.

Lissa lowered a staff she had extended toward her and polished the clear gem at the top with her thumb.

“Feeling better now?” Chrom asked, releasing his hold, but poised to assist if she needed further aid.

“Much better,” she said—or meant to say. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Eyes wide, she put a hand to her throat. That feeling that something vital was missing from her thundered in her ears once more.

Surely it was too soon to panic quite yet.

Maybe.

Possibly.

Perhaps.

Chrom narrowed his eyes and glanced at Lissa who shrugged.

“The staff did everything that it could. She's completely healed.”

“What is your name?” he tried again.

She opened her mouth, then froze. Tiny prickles of fear took root in the dark space where her name should have been.

Where it currently wasn't.

She had a name, of course she did. Everyone had a name, and she'd produce hers once she found it.

Any minute now.

Her mouth moved with her explanation, but only once she got to the end of it did she realize that not a single sound had escaped her lips.

She snapped her mouth shut and closed her eyes. _No name and no voice, could it get any worse?_

“Milord,” the deepest voice murmured, “have you considered that she might be a spy or some sort of distraction sent to lower our guard?”

_Of course it could._

She opened her eyes, made eye contact with Lissa and then Chrom, and shook her head. Then, because her patience was fraying along with an integral part of herself, she glared at the third member of their party. A tall man housed in blue and silver armor who stood rigidly at attention.

Behind him stood a horse, also rigid and alert.

“Peace, Frederick,” Chrom said, holding up a hand as though to silence the objections Frederick was collecting and preparing to impart.

“Can you tell us your name?” A thin line appeared between Chrom’s eyes.

Eyes wide, she shook her head. Fear trembled through her, urging her to flee. The only thing that kept her in place—besides the certainty that Frederick would skewer her if she tried to run—was Chrom.

She was supposed to find him. It was important, although she couldn't have said why. Only that it was.

And she had.

So. There was one thing that had gone right. Pity about everything else.

“You don't know your own name?” Frederick’s voice was drenched with skepticism. Oh, it was properly starched and perfectly-polite-pinkies-out skepticism, but skepticism nonetheless.

She shook her head again.

“Hey, I've heard of that,” Lissa said, looking strangely pleased with herself. “It’s called amnesia. You forget everything you ever knew, except things like how to walk. You still remember how to walk, right?”

Frederick snorted. “What it's called is a load of pegasus dung.” He turned to Chrom while keeping her in his line of sight. “You can't honestly believe the girl has no idea what she's been called all her life, milord.”

Chrom held up his hand once more, his eyes never leaving hers. “Can you speak?”

Tears welled up in her eyes inexplicably, and she shook her head again. And even though the world wavered, she could practically hear Frederick rolling his eyes.

“Oh,” Lissa said, some of her sunshine diffusing.

“Milord—”

“Peace, Frederick.” Then he caught her eye once she'd scrubbed the tears away. “Are you traveling with anyone?”

She chewed her bottom lip, but shook her head uncertainly. Was she traveling alone? It was certainly possible, but so was traveling with someone else.

The thought triggered a memory that was lost so far in the darkness that she couldn't catch more than a glimpse of its shape.

“So we are to believe that you can't remember your name, you can't speak a word in your defense, and you just happen to be wandering through the halidom on your own?”

She grimaced. Frederick had a way of taking an unlikely situation and making it sound absurd even to her own ears.

“But what if it's true, Frederick?” Chrom asked, the hint of a smile in his tone. “We can't just leave her here at the mercy of bandits or worse. What kind of shepherds would we be then?”

Frederick responded without hesitation, “Shepherds who are doing their job to keep the wolves from falling upon their flock.”

She pointed to herself and shook her head. She could quite possibly be many things. Some of them even unsavory, though she didn't like to believe it. But she was fairly certain that she wasn't a wolf.

At least she thought so.

Surreptitiously, she checked her ears and made sure the tail she didn't have wasn't there.

Chrom and Lissa started laughing before she realized Frederick hadn't been quite as literal as she'd taken him. She huffed and crossed her arms. It wasn't her fault her brains were a little scrambled, and the very unloving look Frederick kept shooting in her direction wasn't helping matters any.

“We’ll take her to town and sort things out there. If she turns out to be an enemy operative, then we'll have the means to deal with her there. And if it turns out she's telling the truth, well, we can deal with that too.”

Frederick’s glower faded as she donned one of her own.

Didn't she have a say in any of this? She hadn't asked to be dropped in the middle of . . . of wherever _here_ was with no name, no way to communicate, and no way to defend herself.

Some of her thoughts must have shown on her face, because Lissa laid a friendly hand on her arm. “It's going to be okay. He may be a bit thick sometimes, but you can trust my brother. Chrom—”

Everything else Lissa said vanished into those two words.

_Trust. Chrom._

She was back on a path running through the outskirts of a forest and along a patch of rolling hills. A woman with snow-white hair was standing before her with an expression that could have taught Frederick’s ever-present scowl a thing or two.

“You must trust him, Robin. That's the only thing you need to understand.”

_Trust who?_ Her lips moved with the words, but no sound came out.

The woman’s dark green eyes flashed as her gaze bore into her own.

“Chrom.”

She startled as the memory wrapped itself about that cold, dark space inside her. The place that had held all that she was, her history. The space that was currently empty.

Nearly empty.

_Robin._

The word caressed the space, nudging against the bleakness and settling itself in deep enough to take root.

_Her name was Robin._

Chrom stepped beside her, a concerned look on his face. “Is something wrong?”

Lissa inched forward, healing staff at the ready. “We can help.”

Fredrick didn't say anything. He didn't have to. The disapproval he radiated was enough that she could have basked in its glow a kingdom or two away.

But that didn't matter quite so much anymore. She had a name. A piece of herself.

Robin shook her head and tried to smile through the fire burning in her throat. She wasn't as lost and forsaken as she had supposed after all.

She had her name. A starting place.

“What is it?” Chrom asked, inclining his head toward her.

Robin opened her mouth to tell him, remembered it would be no use, and then looked around for something to use in place of her voice.

The road they were standing next to must have been a common one, although there was a curious lack of anything so small as a pebble or a twig. Only the lightest spattering of dust served as the top layer, and the earth below was packed so tight, she would have bruised and broken her fingers trying to carve out her answer in the dirt.

Robin frowned at the road before her eyes lit up.

Her fingers!

Feeling a strange mixture of shyness that was offset by a sudden boldness, she gestured to his hand and raised a questioning brow.

Chrom’s brows beetled together as he tried to piece together the significance of her request, but to her relief, he held out his hand.

Moving slow enough that even Frederick and his horse couldn't mistake her movements as posing any sort of threat, she took his hand in hers, palm up. Hardly daring to trust her luck, she gently tugged his glove off, and began to trace out the letters of her name.

Once she was finished, Robin caught his eye, pointed to herself, and then spelled her name out once more, line by line, curve by curve, letter by letter.

Chrom cocked his head to the side, his gaze slightly unfocused as he concentrated. “Could you do it one more time? I think I've almost got it.”

Nearly giddy with relief, she spelled her name out a third and final time.

“Robin.” The corners of his lips darkened as they curved up. “Is that your name? Robin?”

Robin nodded and released a breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding. It would have been easier to speak the words aloud, but even so, her lack of a voice wouldn't be a complete detriment to being able to communicate.

She pointed to her head and then tapped it twice.

“Robin,” Chrom tried her name again. “Is that foreign?”

Her early cheer faded as she froze. The answer was somewhere in the murky darkness that even the memory of her name had been unable to pierce.

“You remembered!” Lissa’s eyes went wide and she clutched her staff with excitement. Then she noticed Robin’s reaction, and smacked her brother on the arm.

“Hey!”

“Chrom, you dolt. How is she supposed to know if her name is foreign or not when she’s only just remembered it?” Lissa turned back to Robin and patted her arm. “That's great you remembered! Maybe with time you'll be able to remember everything else.”

Behind them, Frederick coughed.

Deciding not to worry about either Frederick or her fate, Robin grinned and nodded, happiness blossoming a little more in that dark spot that was now a little less cold, and a little less empty.

Frederick cleared his throat. “Now that you've managed to remember who you are, perhaps you could tell us what you are doing here.”

And just like that, the bloom wilted.

She sighed and turned toward him, but met with a gentle resistance.

Puzzled, she stopped. It was then that she realized she was still holding onto Chrom’s hand. Her face ablaze with mortification, she dropped his hand and automatically babbled a senseless apology no one could hear.

In the end, Robin settled for burying her face in her hands.

Chrom chuckled a little, but it was Lissa who spoke up.

“You can't honestly expect Robin to spell out everything letter by letter onto Chrom’s hand, Frederick.”

Robin parted her fingers just enough to see Lissa standing with one hand on her hip while the other waved her staff in exasperation.

“Well, no, milady,” Frederick drawled. His horse’s harness jingled as he moved it aside to access the saddlebags. “I had thought to provide her with vellum and ink.”

Oh.

Chrom laughed at both Lissa’s and her dumbfounded expressions. “It can wait, Frederick. Unless you also have the means to provide a table as well.”

Robin gritted her teeth. While unlikely, she wouldn't have put it past Frederick to whip something together. Despite his suspicions toward herself, she couldn't help but admire how prepared he was. And how steady, despite unwelcome surprises such as herself.

“Alas, I am afraid not,” Frederick said. Robin could almost see his mental note to procure a table as soon as could be done conveniently.

“Well as that's settled, why don't we head back to town?”

Chrom turned in a swish of ivory cape, expecting them all to follow at his word. For a brief moment, Robin considered refusing. She had only just got her bearings, and she wanted a little more time to settle in.

Of course, she couldn't discount Frederick simply throwing her over the side of his horse if she proved too troublesome.

Speaking of Frederick, she could feel his disapproving gaze boring a hole in the back of her head. “The sooner we set off, the sooner we can put this all behind us.”

Robin frowned. She hadn't asked for their assistance or their meddling, but she couldn't ignore that voice in the back of her head urging her to trust Chrom.

“Don't mind them,” Lissa said, hooking her arm through Robin’s. “Now that you’re here, I can't wait to show you around! Maybe we'll find something that can trigger more memories.”

Robin looked unsure, but allowed Lissa to pull her along. Lissa, for her part, cheerfully kept up what amounted to a very one-sided conversation.

Frederick hesitated. Duty directed that he keep his charges safe, but even he couldn't be in two places at once. On the one hand, it would be prudent to march behind Robin in case she really did turn out to be an assassin. On the other, who would act as the vanguard to ensure their group met with no misfortune?

In the end he settled for walking next to Chrom, sending dark looks back over his shoulder every so often.

Chrom set the pace a little slower than he would have liked, but Lissa was still building her stamina and Robin didn't look as steady on her feet as she let on.

“Milord,” Frederick said, keeping his voice low. “I feel it right to urge you to exercise caution. We know next to nothing of this girl, and what little we do know is too fantastic to be credulous.”

Now it was Chrom’s turn to sneak a backward glance. Robin was frowning, but she looked more thoughtful than angry. Lissa, of course, was ecstatic to have someone she could relate to a little better than Frederick or himself. They were nearly the same height, although Robin seemed a year or two older.

Between the two of them, they might have been able to scare some of the local wildlife. If they worked at it.

“I don't think she's likely to grow claws or fangs,” Chrom murmured, not bothering to hide his amusement.

Frederick set his jaw. “And if it turns out she can? Southtown is ill equipped to hold anyone more dangerous than the occasional chicken thief.”

“Then it's a good thing you whipped their militia into shape.” Chrom’s good humor darkened momentarily. “Especially when they're so near the border.”

It was not a coincidence that the hardest hit by the bandits were the villages closest to the divide between Plegia and Ylisse. Thus far, they had confined themselves mostly to simply looting. But there were tales starting to spring up that worried him. He couldn't deny that Emm had very good reasons to avoid a show of military strength, but her aversion to strength by the sword was going to leave their people open to those who lived by the sword.

And far too many innocents were going to die by it.

He gripped the hilt of Falchion and forced his temper back. The shepherds were doing good work. Protecting the weak and teaching them to be stronger. He had to have faith that their people would rise to the occasion.

“Hey look! There it is,” Lissa said, her normal exuberance magnified as they approached civilization. She had lost her fondness for nature about a week into their patrol. “I can't wait to show you around—after Chrom makes sure you aren't some evil death lord or something.”

Robin froze, her gaze flitting between him and the spires rising from South Town.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

Robin shook her head, her eyes stormy. She put a hand to her chest and her mouth moved for a moment before she clenched it shut. But her expression was clear. She was afraid, and Chrom found he didn't like her looking at him that way.

“You have nothing to fear from us,” he murmured, as though speaking to a skittish colt. “Once we're certain you pose no threat to the halidom, you'll be free to go your way.”

For some reason, her eyes darkened at that. Then she cocked her head to the side and raised a brow.

“You know,” Lissa said, waving her arms. “The Halidom of Ylisse. Here. Where we are.”

To his surprise, Robin only looked more confused.

“You've never heard of the halidom?” Frederick scoffed. “Ha! Someone pay this actress. She plays quite the fool. The furrowed brow and wide-eyed confusion are especially convincing.”

Chrom sighed. “Please, Frederick.” Then he turned to Robin who was looking decidedly like a thundercloud about to hurl lightning. “This land is known as the Halidom of Ylisse. Our ruler, Emmeryn, is known as the exalt. If we were closer to Ylisstol, we could take you to her instead.”

He studied her expression. While her scowl had relaxed somewhat, there was still a wariness in her eyes as if they were the ones who might grow claws and fangs.

“You'd love Ylisstol,” Lissa said, a happy, faraway look on her face. “It's beautiful. And it has things like real beds and hot food.”

“Our meals are hot when they need to be,” Chrom said, crossing his arms.

Lissa rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but the second qualification was that the meal be made of food. You wouldn't believe some of the things they think qualify as food.” She shuddered, clearly remembering the wild boar they’d chanced upon a few days prior.

Robin’s brow furrowed a little, but she'd lost some of her fear. She managed a small smile in their direction, while the rest of her seemed a thousand miles away.

“You were grateful for your supper at the time,” Frederick reminded her, patting his mare along the neck.

“Only because I was on the verge of starving to death,” Lissa retorted. She gave Robin a conspiratorial grin. “It's no wonder the bandits are so cranky if that's all they have to eat. You're just lucky us Shepherds found you instead of one of them.”

Chrom shook his head. This was Lissa’s first patrol, and they'd been lucky enough that they hadn't come across any bandits so far. Emm had agreed it was time to allow Lissa to grow up a little more, but he wasn't looking forward to watching the process.

Especially if some of the newer reports were true.

Still, she was nearly as safe with Frederick and him as she was back in Ylisstol.

Robin frowned and gave him a questioning look.

“Huh?”

She gestured at them before lightly tapping his pauldron.

“My armor?”

She pressed her lips together in thinly veiled frustration. Then gestured at them again.

“Us?” And then once she crooked her finger. “Ah, the Shepherds?”

Robin nodded and tapped his pauldron once more, her gaze so intense he could almost feel her willing them to understand.

“You want to know about our armor?” Lissa asked, hugging her staff uncertainly.

Frederick stiffened, but Chrom decided to ignore him in favor of figuring out what Robin was trying to say.

Robin nodded sharply, then crooked her finger again.

“Oh! You want to know why shepherds go around in armor?”

Some of the tension went out of Robin’s shoulders when she indicated, yes, he'd stumbled upon the answer.

Chrom chuckled. “Well, tending sheep can be dangerous. Just ask Frederick the Wary, here.”

“A title I wear with pride,” Frederick said, giving him a pointed look. “Naga forbid one of us exercise an appropriate level of caution.”

Then, to everyone's surprise, his expression thawed a little and he addressed Robin directly. “I have every wish to trust you, but my station mandates otherwise.” His gaze flicked over to Lissa and Chrom before returning to Robin.

Her lips rounded as her eyes widened with understanding. She glanced around for a moment, then settled for laying a hand on Frederick’s forearm and nodding once.

Some of the weight on Chrom’s shoulders lifted at that. If Robin and Frederick could come to an understanding, perhaps there was hope that Plegia and Ylisse could do the same.

“And which we shall soon clear up,” Chrom said with confidence. “We're almost to the—”

“Chrom,” Lissa cried, a look of horror on her face. “The town! Look!”

Heart sinking, he turned and immediately wished that his biggest problem was preventing Frederick and Robin from coming to blows.

The breeze had been blowing away from the town or they would have smelled the smoke that billowed up in long skeletal fingers toward the sky. Beneath the dark cloud of smoke, he could make out red and orange tendrils of fire.

“The dastards,” Chrom growled, fury coiled about his chest. The reports had been true. The bandits no longer contented themselves with stealing. “They've set the town ablaze! Frederick! Lissa! Quickly.”

Without further ceremony, he sped off in the direction of the town. Lissa squeaked in surprise, but followed gamely.

“But what about her?” Frederick called, clearly torn between following them and standing guard over Robin.

In case she had anything nefarious planned, of course.

In the distance, Chrom raised a hand and called back, “Unless she's on fire too, it can wait!”

Frederick's face cleared and he swung himself up into the saddle. He spared one glance in Robin’s direction that made her very glad she wasn't among those in the town setting things on fire before he urged his mount into a gallop.

Robin stared dumbly after them for a moment. What was she supposed to do now?

She glanced at the quiet path behind her, ostensibly free of bandits, and then swung her gaze back toward the town. In which direction lay chaos and danger, and the distinct possibility of an untimely demise.

So why was she running toward it like her life depended on it?

Robin shook the thought from her mind. Apparently she lacked a healthy sense of self-preservation. That was good to know. She could only hope that somewhere in her past she'd been trained to be useful in combat, because the clash of metal and shouting that could be heard over the roar of the fire assured her there would be fighting ahead.

Her heart thumped wildly against her chest, and not just because she'd been running. Soon enough she would find out whether or not she had anything approaching heroic within her. If not, well, she'd be too occupied with dying to spare any thought for regrets.

As if to drive home her conclusion, the ground shook as an explosion rattled the town and sent plumes of flame soaring upward while bits of debris and ash rained down.

Coughing, Robin covered the bottom half of her face with her sleeve and ran toward the inferno.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.
> 
> Cross-posted from FanFiction.Net under the same user name. There are currently 20 chapters—about 130,000 words—posted. I'll be putting the chapters up here as I have time. Once I've caught up, I post chapters every other Friday.
> 
> The early chapters will follow the story somewhat closely. Things will diverge quite a bit a little later on.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. Fractured will be following the big plot points in general with a lot of . . . differences along the way. When I first tried to write this, a very specific scene popped into my head. I can't wait until we get to that part. The Robin in this story was always meant to be without her voice. It took me a bit to realize this, but once I did, everything else fell into place beautifully. This Robin (and a major plot twist) couldn't have happened any other way.


	3. Chapter Two

As Robin charged headlong into town, a dark shadow appeared out of nowhere and clamped down on her arm, wrenching her to the side.

In all the chaos, it took a moment for her to recognize Chrom standing in front of her. He towed her over to the side of a building that was streaked with soot, but otherwise undamaged. His mouth moved as he gestured to an equally singed cart that had jagged edges where it had been broken apart.

She blinked stupidly at Chrom, unable to make sense of his words. Perhaps realizing that her mind was running in useless circles, he pulled her down to crouch behind him.

They were situated in a tiny makeshift fort that was constructed primarily of barrels and broken crates. Some of which still contained semi-baked apples and ragged heads of lettuce. The air was stifling even here, but somehow Robin found herself breathing easier.

She wasn't going to die, or be possibly heroic, on her own.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she glanced up, startled, to see a soot smudged Lissa smiling her welcome.

The clank of armor behind her betrayed Frederick’s presence even before he uttered his clipped, “If we could return to the task at hand, how shall we proceed moving forward?”

“They appear to be headed toward the town square,” Chrom said, his brows low and his jaw set. “We need to stop them before they get too close to the shops.”

The questioned burned itself onto Robin’s tongue, but fortunately Lissa spoke up.

“That's where a lot of the people live.” Her eyes were wide with horror.

“Indeed,” Frederick said, holding the shaft of his lance lightly in his hand. “All those who aren't farmers.”

Chrom scowled. “The farms are even less protected than the town. If we could only find the militia . . .”

Robin closed her hands into fists as she tried to think as hard as she could. They were badly outnumbered and running out of time, but if Chrom thought the militia might even the odds . . .

She got to her knees and peered around the closest barrel. The world was still a confusion of smoke and fire, screams and human shapes darting here and there, but as she squinted against the chaos, the details snapped into place.

The town was nestled in a small valley, surrounded by mountains on three sides with foothills guarding the fourth. She wrinkled her nose against the smoke and put her sleeve to her face once more. It was strange. The word mountain conjured something taller, sharper, that cut harshly through the landscape to her mind. But these mountains, while not quite craggy, were green with sides that sloped at a more gentle angle.

Robin shook her head. She needed to focus on the here and now.

“I don't understand,” Chrom growled. “Surely they should be somewhere.”

“We would be hard pressed to see much of anything through this haze, but take heart, milord. Southtown’s militia might not have been able to stop the brigands, but it is likely due to them that most of the town remains standing intact.”

Robin leaned out a little farther, keeping low to the ground. She squinted against the stinging in her eyes. Southtown was not a large town, and though they had just come in through the east gate, the town square was visible from where they crouched.

A few of the houses lining the square had smoke billowing from the rooftops and flames dancing in the windows. But across the way, a large building with great circular windows gleaming in the firelight seemed to be where most of the brigands had unleashed their fury.

And due to the twin plumes of smoke rising from its rafters, it was probably the source of the earlier explosion.

“Careful, Robin,” Lissa said, tugging her back into their fort. “It’s probably best not to start the battle with casualties on our side.”

Robin furrowed her brow, and Lissa nodded toward the place Robin had been creeping toward. Seemingly out of nowhere, a swarthy man appeared. At least she thought it was a man. But on closer examination, it had the appearance of a demon.

She tugged at Lissa’s sleeve and pointed before gesturing to her own head. Lissa squinted as she leaned against Robin. Then she gasped, and despite the uneven light, Robin could see her pale.

“Chrom,” Lissa hissed. “There's something wrong with these ones.”

“How so?” Chrom turned toward them.

Robin gestured to her head while Lissa clutched her staff. They moved so Chrom could get a better look. Once he had, he cursed under his breath.

“Milord?” Frederick’s armor was too bulky to allow him to comfortable fit next to them.

His eyes on the brigand, Chrom cursed again. “These aren't the usual strain of bandits.”

“How so?” Despite their small quarters, Frederick had managed to get down on one knee so he didn't stick out like the shiny silver and blue mountain of metal that he was.

Chrom turned and gave him a meaningful look. “They're wearing wyvern skulls.”

Robin's eyes widened as what she'd seen suddenly made sense. They were men, but the wyvern skulls they wore atop their heads made them look less human and more savage.

She waved her hand to get Chrom’s attention and swept her hand down her shoulder and arms, nodding in the direction of the brigand. To her surprise, it was Frederick who answered.

“If our sources are correct, they wear a cowl made from the wyvern’s skin. It serves to protect them from fire and blade both.”

Lissa made a face. “Ew.”

Chrom managed a wan smile, but the line between his brows betrayed his worry.

Robin drew in as deep a breath as she could muster without coughing. The mountain was perched on her shoulders once more, because if she was wrong, if she had missed something or miscalculated, it wouldn't cost her her head alone. The weight of that responsibility was nearly as suffocating as the smoke.

She laid a hand on Chrom’s pauldron and forced her fear back. She could gibber in terror later.

Provided she survived.

“Robin?”

Hoping she wasn't about to get them all killed, she gestured to Frederick and pointed to the bridge. Then she gestured to Chrom and pointed at the seemingly lone brigand. If she'd managed to get her numbers right, there were several more in that direction. And more than that across the bridge.

Hopefully Frederick's armor was as strong as it looked.

“You think we should split up?” Chrom asked in astonishment.

True to form, Frederick objected. “Splitting up would only tip the balance in their favor. We're already heavily outnumbered as it is, and we have no promise that the town’s militia is anywhere near to give us aid.”

Now came the tricky part. If time weren't of the essence, she would have taken Frederick up on his offer of ink and vellum from earlier.

Taking Chrom by the hand, she shuffled out of their little enclave, keeping a barrel between them and the brigand. She gestured to the few houses next to the square that were burning and then to the houses across the bridge that appeared to have mostly escaped unscathed. If the militia was still fighting, that was the most likely place they'd be.

If only she could tell him that.

Chrom, who had been studying the scene frowned. “Frederick could likely take out any resistance in that quarter, but not without risking serious injury. And what of this quarter?” He scowled at the burning buildings. “Your faith in me is touching, but I'd be overwhelmed before too long.”

Robin smiled, hoping it didn't look as weak and frightened as she felt. She shifted a little and showed him her sword that hung from her belt. Despite the dark place in her mind where all of her memories had fallen, she was fairly certain she knew how to wield it.

And if not, she knew enough to aim the pointed end at the enemy.

“You can fight?” Chrom’s eyes widened. “Wait, is that a tome? Can you work magic without your voice?”

Robin frown and unhooked the tome from her belt. The cover was worn, but it was fairly thick.

‘Yes?’ she mouthed.

Chrom looked far from reassured. “If you don't mind, I think I'll—”

“Well now, what do we have here?”

While they'd been plotting, the brigand they'd been watching had spotted them. He grinned, swinging his ax in a deadly arc toward them.

Chrom jumped back awkwardly before surging to his feet. Robin landed in an ungraceful heap on her back. In blind panic, she squeezed the tome with one hand and willed the spell to her fingertips.

White hot light lanced through both her vision and her brain, and the brigand shouted something. She clenched her jaw, but the pain from being willfully mistaken for firewood never came, and once she had blinked most of the stars out of her vision, she understood why.

Chrom was wiping his blade off on the wyvern skin cowl, and the corpse of the brigand was lightly charred where her spell had hit him in the chest.

Before Robin could decide if she was going to lose what meal she might have eaten before waking up with no memory of it, Frederick had yanked her to her feet. She grimaced when she saw a few dark figures racing toward them.

Shoving ineffectually at Frederick, she gestured sharply to his horse that had been stationed around the corner of their base.

He let go of her, disapproval lining his face. “Milord—”

She wasn't finished yet. Robin hadn't forgotten what Chrom had said, and it had only served to reinforce her original decision. She grabbed Lissa by the arm and pushed her in Frederick's direction, then pointed sternly toward the bridge.

“Milord!”

But there was no time to argue. The two figures had nearly reached them, and both were sporting wyvern skull.

“Go, Frederick,” Chrom shouted as he got in position to deal with the brigands. “And take Lissa with you!”

Robin rushed toward Chrom, holding tightly to her tome. She wasn't looking forward to the massive pain in her head, but she fancied an ax to the gut even less.

She shook the tome opened, hoping to find a spell that wouldn't blind her, when the brigands reached them. Chrom met them head on, striking and spinning so quickly she could barely follow the movement with her eyes.

Just as Robin had nerved herself up to try another spell, she had to fling herself out of the way as Frederick’s horse thundered through with Lissa clinging to the knight from behind.

Frederick ran down the brigand Chrom had injured, and neatly speared the second with his lance.

Still reeling, Robin managed to reach Chrom and pulled frantically at his arm. When he looked at her, she pointed to the largest burning building. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, then nodded.

“Rendezvous at the cathedral!” he called out.

Frederick raised an arm in acknowledgment before his horse thundered across the bridge.

Robin had enough time to breathe a sigh of relief before Chrom turned to her. “Are you ready?”

For the first time she was glad she couldn't talk, because she didn't think she could have hidden the lie well enough. Instead she set her jaw and nodded. It was too late to turn back now, and she was mindful that the screams and shouting that punctuated the roar and crackle of the fire hadn't just been the brigands.

Chrom’s brows lowered and he gestured in the direction the brigands had come from. “Then let's go.”

They kept low as they darted past two buildings and into the alleyway behind them. Raucous laughter drifted from a few houses down, the shadows of the brigands tangled in the twisting flames. Chrom stiffened at the sound of glass breaking and someone crying out.

He made as if to sprint toward the brigands, fury radiating from every line of him, but Robin pressed a hand against his arm.

The intensity of her look eased a pinprick of fury from him, and she mouthed with careful deliberation, ‘Don't die.’

“Nor you,” he said before tearing off.

Robin clutched her open tome against her chest and scurried after him.

By the time she caught up to him, Chrom had already engaged the nearest brigand. The other two grinned as they approached him, flanking him on either side.

Robin drew in a shallow breath, gritted her teeth, and aimed the Thunder spell at the brigand to the right of Chrom.

Lightning flashed from her hand and arched into the chest of the brigand just as he'd raised his arms to strike at Chrom. Stray bits of energy sparked from his ax as it fell from his nerveless hands right before he collapsed.

The second brigand pulled up short, giving her a measuring look. Heartbeat thundering in her ears, Robin searched for an opening. Chrom was too close to either brigand to allow her a clean shot, and she didn't like to think what would happen should she miss.

As she moved uncertainly back and forth, the second brigand charged toward her. She jumped to the side, narrowly missing being cut in two. She fumbled with her tome, fingers shaking. Her mind refused to focus as she was forced to duck and then dodge to the other side.

“Is the town so desperate they're sending children out to defend it?” The brigand grinned at her as he swung. Firelight glinted against metal as he twirled the ax and swung again.

Robin managed to dodge both strikes, but her chest was heaving and her sides burned.

He spat and suddenly lunged forward. The ax whistled as it sliced through the air. Robin stepped to the side, gasping. Grinning, the brigand twisted his ax and hammered her shoulder with the base of the shaft. Her feet flew out from under her and she crashed into the ground.

Her mind fractured into shards of pain and fear. She had the presence of mind to roll to the side. In desperation, she twisted and she threw out a spell. It bit the tips of her fingers as it shot into the brigand’s face point blank.

He staggered and cursed. Trembling from the Thunder, he raised both arms to deliver a final blow.

Robin pedaled backward, eyes wide. There was no time to summon another spell. She put up an arm as a futile defense and set her jaw.

The brigand gaped at her in surprise. His hand went to his chest where a sudden blotch of red bloomed around the point of a sword. The brigand’s mouth twisted to the side as his eyes went blank and he tumbled to the ground.

Chrom stepped out from behind him and offered her a hand.

“You all right?”

She hurt too much to be dead, so she nodded. Being alive was what counted. Everything else was just so much silver lining.

Robin's gaze swept the immediate area, all three brigands were down, but one looked like he was regaining consciousness. She picked a random page and prepared to Thunder him as many times as necessary to send him back into oblivion.

Chrom held up a hand.

“Hold.” He went to the side of the injured brigand, spinning the fallen ax out of reach. “Who sent you here?”

The brigand blinked up the length of Chrom’s blade.

“Answer me,” Chrom said, iron in his command. “And you may yet live. Who sent you to prey upon this people?”

The brigand squinted up at him and laughed. “The strong rule the weak, isn't that how it goes?”

Chrom nudged the brigands chest with the point of his blade. “Not so long as the Shepherds drawn breath.”

The brigand goggled at that, some of his bluster going out of him. For a second, he appeared to reconsider, fear and defiance glinting in his eye.

In the end, defiance won out.

“Too many sheep and not enough Shepherds, or so I hear tell. Know this, boy,” he spat the words like a curse, “there are wolves in the forest and more are coming.”

He jerked his arm to smack the blade away before he realized he'd made a fatal mistake.

Chrom pulled the sword from his chest and shook his head. The scent of blood was strong enough to overpower the smoke, and Robin squeezed her eyes shut.

Not right now, she ordered her stomach. You can be sick all you like after we're through.

A gentle pressure formed against her arm. She started, her eyes flying open, only to find Chrom standing before her.

“Easy,” he said, putting up a placating hand. He watched her as if gauging her reaction. “We need to move on.”

She winced, hearing the unspoken question. Could she do this again? And again? As many times as needed doing?

Her fingers still buzzed a little, but she was able to shake the rest of the sting out.

“You haven't used your sword,” he murmured, eyeing the hilt of her blade that peeped out from her coat.

Robin made a face, then glanced at the fallen brigands—each easily at least twice her size—and raised her brow at Chrom.

He chuckled once he caught her meaning. “Fair point.”

She dusted herself off, taking mental inventory of the bruises that were forming from where she’d landed, to the scrapes on her palms and the fiery throbbing right behind her eyes. Nothing fun, but nothing serious.

Right then. The only thing left to do was—

Chrom put a hand on her shoulder. “Stay with me.”

They tore down the street, the cobblestones jarring her feet with every step. They ducked behind houses as they made disjointed progress toward the other bridge that led toward the cathedral.

Robin frowned. The town square was flat and open, and set a little lower than the houses around it. There were a few stalls here and there, but they'd have to cross a large area with little to no cover.

She spared a moment of regret for sending Frederick and that lovely warhorse of his galloping in the other direction. Caught up in tactical remorse, she nearly ran into Chrom when he stopped abruptly at the last house before the square and ducked down, pulling Robin with him.

They crouched together, squinting through the haze of smoke. Dread made her insides recoil when she caught sight of the next party of brigands.

The stalls hadn't been as empty as they'd looked, and a handful of brigands had rounded up the merchants into a tight, miserable knot.

Chrom muttered something about fools who valued gold over life before glancing at her. “Are you skilled enough to take out the brigands without hitting the merchants?”

She flexed her fingers and readjusted her grip on the tome. The spells still bit at her fingers when they weren't recoiling painfully against her mind, but she could still send off a Thunder strong enough to stun. It just took everything she had to do it.

The problem being she could either concentrate on dodging blades or on her magic. Trying to do both had nearly cost her her life, and they were outnumbered even more here. Also, that didn't even take into account the merchants who would effectively become hostages once they attacked.

“Robin?”

She huffed air out of her cheeks. Chrom was right handed, though he used both hands to wield his sword . . .

Her eyes widened when she realized her mistake. While she'd separated their forces, it had been in teams of two. Not four teams of one.

She moved over to Chrom's left side and gauged the balance between them. Perhaps if she were the bowman to his lance, so to speak . . . ? Yes, that might just work.

“We've got to move soon,” Chrom warned, his eyes on the brigands.

Robin swung around to face him and pointed at herself before gesturing to his left flank. When he shook his head in confusion, she grabbed his arm and carefully spelled out, _fight together._

He frowned. “Are you sure? I have a chance if I surprise them, but with four innocents to protect . . .”

She pressed her lips together. He'd have his hands full trying not to die and to rescue as many merchants as he could. His chance of success went down drastically if he had to worry about protecting her too.

Knuckles white where she clutched the tome, she nodded. Her heart and her head were telling her to trust Chrom, despite such trust meaning Frederick and running toward both fire and death.

So be it.

Resolve steadying her, she gestured toward the brigands.

They ran forward, Chrom growling as they reached the surprised brigands. His sword flashed as they came upon the first, twisting sun and firelight as it pierced the man in the gut, reversed course and finished him.

Robin was there on his left, hurling lightning from her fingertips as Chrom ducked and dodged the axes curving toward him, answering them with thrusts and cuts of his own.

The bandits roared as they rushed forward, heedless of the merchants they'd shoved recklessly aside.

Robin grinned darkly despite her pounding headache as she unleashed another jagged line of magic. The brigands were strong, but they relied on brute strength when taking captives would have tipped their advantage.

She could work with that.

A myrmidon leaped out, surprising them. Chrom sidestepped and put his guard up, but not fast enough to avoid a shallow cut to his cheek.

The headache pulsing behind her eyes intensified as Robin thrust another spell in the myrmidon’s direction. Starbursts began to obscure her vision, bit by bit, forcing Robin to rely on the signals Chrom was giving her by how he moved. When he thrusted, and when he parried.

She flailed a little when she’d misread his actions, and he'd ended up twisting as he sidestepped instead of parrying as she'd expected.

A line of fire scored itself across her arm. She froze for a moment, and time itself slowed. The glare of the brigand. The sweat lining his brow. The exact shape of the smoke.

Then everything snapped back into place. Chrom had already cut the brigand down before she'd registered his movement.

It took a moment more before she realized her vision had cleared.

A lone brigand remained, but from the looks of him, they'd saved the biggest for last.

“I shall avenge my fallen brothers,” he snarled. The wyvern skull on his head made him appear even more formidable than his towering height and bulging arms had.

Chrom simply slashed at his torso in reply. The brigand replied by twirling his ax as he sought to hack his way through Chrom’s defenses.

Robin balanced on the balls of her feet, waiting for an opening. They were both moving so fast, she couldn't be certain she’d miss Chrom or that she'd hit anything at all.

Just when she thought they'd be at it forever, Chrom feinted and thrust in such a quick succession that the brigand made his first mistake. As he swung his weapon in a deadly arch, Chrom’s blade caught the curve of the ax. He twisted his sword sharply, knocking the brigand off balance. Then rammed into him with his shoulder.

The brigand stumbled and fell. He nearly managed to tuck well enough to roll, but Chrom moved with inhumane speed and finished him off.

Before she could congratulate him on a job well done, a flash of light caught the corner of her eye. Out of instinct, Robin threw herself to the side, colliding with Chrom, and taking them both down.

Her arm throbbed in time with the pain in her head.

A sudden heat arched over their heads, the spell just missing them. One of the merchants wailed as it hit one of the stalls, demolishing it in a ball of fire.

Ignoring her bruises and the cut on her arm, Robin pushed herself off the ground. Chrom had done most of the legwork when it had come to the other brigands. This mage was hers.

She'd dropped her tome when she'd tackled Chrom out of the way. The mage was muttering and had already summoned the two outer rings of the spell. With no time to find her tome, Robin charged him and threw herself at him. He couldn't cast if he’d had the wind knocked out of him.

That had been the plan, at least. Rather than smashing him into the cobblestones, the force of her attack had ended with him taking an involuntary step back while she bounced off him.

But the runes had vanished, and that was all that mattered. Ripping her sword from its sheath, she swung it at him, some distant part of her mind recognizing the familiar feel of the hilt in her hand.

Even if she couldn't clearly see what she was doing.

Screaming a silent war cry, she advanced swinging her sword, operating on the assumption that if she kept her blade moving, eventually it would hit something.

The mage jumped back, then went to the side. But no matter which direction he went, she hemmed him in, never allowing him to get more than a word or two into the spell before he had to move or be skewered.

They continued their dance until Robin had him cornered against the railing looking out over the falls that emptied into a river than ran beneath the town.

The mage glanced over his shoulder then looked back at her, weighing his options. Tucking his tome under his arm, he moved to rush her. But Robin was already turning on her heel and swinging her sword. The blade reflected the sullen flames dancing around her right before it smacked against the mage.

She had hit him with the flat of her blade, rather than the side, but while it didn't cut him, she had managed to put enough force into it to knock him off balance.

His arms flailed wildly before he fell over the side and dropped out of sight.

Chest heaving, Robin ran to the railing and looked down into the river. There was no sign of the mage, and there would have been nowhere for him to go but under . . .

Legs weak with relief, she staggered against the rail.

“A bit unorthodox, but I'll take it.” Chrom grinned at her. He held out her tome.

She managed to return a shaky smile, when a movement caught her eye. The merchants were starting to move about. Chrom reached out to the nearest, but he shook his head.

“We’ll see to our wounded. Just stay alive and . . .” His gaze focused on the burning building behind them.

“Right,” Chrom said. “Find shelter for now. After this is over, we’ll send out the healers.”

Tight lipped, he nodded. Turned back to his fellows and helped a young woman who had a nasty cut near her hairline stand. The others followed his lead, walking as though caught in a terrible dream.

Chrom waited until they'd made it past the square before glowering at the twin columns of smoke rising before them. Soot stained his clothes and skin, mixing with the odd cut here and there, but he appeared fine otherwise.

Robin put a hand on his arm to be sure. Light still swam through her vision, making it difficult to see much of anything clearly, but the stars were slowly fading back into a massive headache pounding behind her eyes.

“Frederick hasn't made it yet,” Chrom murmured, then glanced down at her. “What's left of their main forces will either be holed up in there or don't exist any longer.”

Robin crooked her mouth to the side. From the way their luck was going, that cathedral was going to be bristling with brigands from basement to rafters. Her thoughts must have shown on her face, because Chrom chuckled grimly.

“We should probably count on meeting resistance.”

The few pages left in her tome fluttered weakly from the spine. They weren't meant to see battle in the literal sense, and Robin’s dread increased. She had a feeling that using the tome to help focus her magic had been the only thing keeping her from frying herself with her own spells. With most of the pages missing, the tome’s ability to act as a focus was severely compromised.

Which left her with her sword.

“Easy,” Chrom said as she swayed on her feet. “Are you going to be up to it?”

Robin's thoughts turned bitter. She ought to have listened to Frederick. Splitting their minuscule force on the vague hope that they could join up with the town’s militia had been . . . unwise.

Sure, they'd somehow survived two skirmishes, but while Chrom had hardly worked up much of a sweat, she was nearly done for.

Right before they had to face what in all likelihood would be greater numbers of brigands eager for new blood.

She dropped her face into her hand. Trust Chrom, sure. She could do that. But she had never stopped to reason out whether or not he should trust her.

“Hey now,” Chrom said, squeezing her shoulder. “We've made it through two engagements. We can make it through a third.”

Shoulders drooping, Robin gestured to the cathedral. To the broken windows and darkened stone. To the pillars of smoke eating the sky while the flames devoured everything they touched.

Frederick still hadn't arrived, and he'd gotten a head start on them. If she had sent Lissa and him to their deaths—

“You can't doubt. Not now.” The intensity in Chrom’s voice startled her into making eye contact. “Doubt and despair are more dangerous than any blade. If you believe you're lost before you go in, you will be.”

How she wanted to confess then and there that she might have made a terrible mistake. The apology, the regret, were thick on her tongue. But the words stayed lodged in her chest, caged birds with no hope of deliverance.

_Trust Chrom._

Those words, in a voice she nearly recognized, pounded in time with her head. Insisting she hear them over everything else. Repeating themselves until she believed.

It was then that she discovered a small seed of strength that had been hidden beneath all the terror and pain.

They would engage the brigands a third and, hopefully, final time. They would win because they must. If the worst case proved true, if the militia had all fallen, then she and Chrom were the only thing standing between the town and the brigands. Failure was not an option, not with all those lives hanging in the balance.

Whatever came after would come.

“That's more like it,” Chrom said, releasing his hold. “Are you ready?”

_Trust Chrom._

Fire in her eyes, Robin nodded once.

_Yes._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.
> 
> This is cross-posted from FanFiction.Net under the same user name.
> 
> Thanks for stopping by. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Robin has been an interesting character to write. She does things—like the deal with the magic recoil, and let's just say that her swordplay in this chapter is her high point when it comes to stabbing things—that don't make a lot of sense at first. I mean, what character comes equipped with two weapons that she can't really use without the risk of grievous injury to herself? And yet, as the story moves on, she eventually allows me to peek under the hood, so to speak. Just a peek, but enough that I'm pretty sure I don't have to worry about the story running working at cross purposes with itself. I'm really excited about what's coming and can't wait to share!


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

The bridge connecting the town square to the land where the cathedral was billowing smoke was suspiciously clear of brigands.

“Be on your guard,” Chrom cautioned. He moved lightly beside her, his gaze sweeping the area.

Robin tightened her hold on her sword, regretting how slim her tome had become. The magical recoil—or whatever it was that was fueling her headache and lancing white light through her vision—was not enjoyable, but it was much more tolerable than, say, a sword to the gut.

The fire in her arm had turned into a low, dull throb. A persistent pain that was fraying the edges of her concentration. Even so, she couldn't help looking around, admiring the parts of the landscape that could be seen through haze.

If one could look past all the smoke and fire, it should have been a lovely day. Instead, the lack of bandits, and anyone else for that matter, only made the dismal scene more ominous.

The farther they got from the square, the more choked the air became with smoke. It stained the sky dark enough that it might have been solid. But a lesser smoke, soft and grimy, coated everything else.

Words chased through her mind, itched in her throat. She wanted to say something, anything, to break the oppressive silence. Why had these brigands attacked? Why had she lost her voice? And why, she stopped, wondering, was she so certain she'd ever been able to speak in the first place?

Lost in her thoughts, she was brought up short when Chrom put an arm out. He gestured toward the steps of the cathedral where a lone brigand stood.

The brigand stood taller and wider than any of the others they'd previously encountered. An ax with a blade bigger than Robin’s head rested comfortably against his shoulder.

But it was the smaller figure she'd initially overlooked that made Robin’s blood run cold.

“Please,” the girl cried, one arm extended as if to protect herself from a blow.

“Surely this is not all this wretched place has that is worth anything,” the brigand snarled, pointing at a rather paltry offering of gold littered around a few chests. “Now, you can either show me where you're hiding the valuables, or you can join the old man in the afterlife.”

“But we don't—”

Garrick swung his fist. It cracked against the girl’s face, sending her sprawling.

“I'll have my gold if I have to rip it from your cold, dead hands myself.” He struck the girl again, sending her tumbling down the stairs.

Chrom muttered a curse and moved to visit destruction upon the brigand, when a voice said, “I wouldn't do that, boy. Garrick is a strict taskmaster, and he doesn't tolerate insurgents among the troops.”

When Robin turned, she wished she could speak so she could curse their rotten luck. While they'd been distracted by Garrick, the remainder of his men had sneaked up behind them.

Her stomach sank even further when she realized that more troops had closed off the circle in front while they'd been distracted by those in the back.

Chrom, noticing the same thing, cursed again. She could see him working the numbers in his head, coming to the conclusion she had already reached.

Indecision flickered on his face, and she watched him, curious. He'd spoken fine words back there, helped her find the courage to go on. So what would he do in the face of certain death?

“On the other hand “ the brigand continued, making a show of inspecting the blade of his ax, “me and the boys are a bit more sporting.”

“My sister spoke true when she said we had a brigand problem,” Chrom told her as though they weren't surrounded by bloodthirsty savages intent on spilling their blood. He gestured to the noose of brigands as it tightened. “As you can see, it's only gotten worse.”

They were surrounded by the enemy, her arm was shaking from the combined weight of the sword and her fears, and Chrom picked this moment to indulge in madness? Robin didn't know whether to Thunder some sense into him or aim for the brigands.

He grinned when he saw her expression, nodded in recognition. “How many do you think you can take?”

“Oh ho,” the brigand chuckled, running his thumb along the edge of his ax. “This is going to be fun.”

The brigands closed in while Robin was frantically trying to calculate how many she could take and how many would be left for Chrom.

She didn't much care for their chances.

Chrom nodded, his expression like flint. “That's what I thought.”

Then he attacked, ivory cloak streaming behind him. Robin snapped her mouth shut and started swinging her blade.

The brigands laughed as they raised their weapons. Except for the one who'd sprouted the tip of a lance in his sternum. He glanced down, every bit as confused as the rest of them, before he toppled over.

“Milord!”

Never had Robin been as happy to see anyone as she was to see Frederick thundering toward them, his arm still extended from the throw, leading a handful of fighters she supposed to be part of the town’s militia.

She turned to mime as much to Chrom, only to find he'd charged through the circle while the brigands had been distracted and was currently dashing up the stairs to the cathedral.

The unstoppable wave that was Frederick crashed into the brigands in a flash of blue and silver. She stepped toward him, but he waved her on.

“Go. We’ll take care of these ruffians.” He punctuated this by reclaiming his lance from the fallen brigand.

Surprised, but obedient, Robin scurried after Chrom.

“Please.” The maiden met her at the foot of the stairs, ragged with a nasty bruise forming on her cheek. “What can I do to help?”

Robin spared her a glance, but when it became apparent the girl had no weapon of any kind, she patted her on the shoulder, shook her head, and kept going.

Her side burned, and her feet hurt with every step she leaped, but underneath all that, she felt a spark of something. Excitement? Agitation? Terror?

Whatever it was, it got her to the top of the stairs in time to see the brigand knock Chrom’s blade aside before slamming the wooden end of his ax into Chrom’s gut.

Lightning flared at her fingertips before she'd processed what had just happened.

The brigand laughed when Chrom doubled over. “Aw, is the Shepherd tired of playing with the big, bad wolf—gyak!” The spell hit him about the same time Robin’s vision went bright with white fire.

She stumbled over to where she'd remembered seeing Chrom, gasping for air. This time was far worse than any of the others.

Her fingers twitched over cloth and metal. She startled when something gripped her hand.

“Th-thanks,” Chrom wheezed. He groaned, and from the rustling sound, had hopefully gotten back on his feet. “O-owe . . .you . . . one.”

“Here sheepy, sheepy. Come to the slaughter.”

Robin wrinkled her nose. She didn't need to see or hear him to know where the brigand stood. He reeked as though he'd never been acquainted with soap, and the closest he’d ever come to water was getting caught out in a storm.

Shifting her stance, Robin aimed her sword in his general direction and set her jaw. This brigand was no mage who could be rendered useless by interrupting him. Fighting with him was going to hurt. A lot.

At best.

From his laughter, it seemed he agreed. “Is this really the best this town can offer? A pathetic Shepherd and a child?”

She huffed angrily in his direction. Why did they all think she was a child? She was a full grown adult. In all probability.

“Well, come on. I'm a busy man just working to make a dishonest living.”

“Robin.” Was it her imagination or did Chrom not sound as winded as before? “Don't . . .”

Right. She was as good as dead if she attacked him head on—provided she managed to hit him in the first place. What she needed was to buy Chrom time.

“Aw, is the sheepy bashful?” Garrick sneered, his voice grating across her eardrums. “Well then, perhaps I'll be the one to come out and play.”

Hearing him move sent ice through her veins. With a silent cry, she threw her sword with every bit of strength she had left.

Garrick cursed as metal clattered upon the stone. Robin’s only warning was an indescribable stench before she was lifted off her feet and slammed into something hard enough for the taste of metal to coat her tongue. Her head was a confusing riot of white and black. She couldn't breathe. Drowning. Ribs on fire.

A roar amplified the pain in her head. Shuddering, she tried to curl up into a ball without moving. Tears leaked down her face, and every breath she took made the fire in her chest burn hotter.

Metal grated. Clashed. Someone shouted.

Robin reached a hand in that direction, caught hold of every bit of magic she possessed, and pushed.

She threw her head back with a silent scream as the spell burned her fingers. Burst through her head. Boiled her blood.

Until nothing was left.

But darkness.

* * *

 

Lightning sizzled through the air. Chrom only just managed to get out of the way before Robin’s spell hit Garrick in an explosion of light.

Garrick screamed. Bits of lightning threaded themselves about him, but even then, he remained mostly on his feet.

Crying out, Chrom rushed him. Garrick’s grasp on his ax was loose, and Falchion pushed it aside easily. Chrom brought all his weight to bear as he slashed once and then stabbed through the wyvern skin.

Flesh and muscle and bone parted before Falchion until it pierced the heart.

Chrom yanked the blade from Garrick’s chest. The brigand fell lifeless onto the alabaster stone. He looked for Robin to congratulate and thank her, but she was nowhere—

He froze. Her prone form lay in a crumpled heap of purple and black. Chrom rushed over to her, sliding to a stop.

“Robin.” Chrom moved her gently, seeking for any sign of life. “Robin, can you hear me?”

Cradling her head, he felt for a pulse. At first he could feel nothing but the trembling of his own fingers. Then the softest movement fluttered beneath his fingers, thready and reluctant, but there.

“Chrom,” Lissa cried as she pounded up the steps.

He glanced up in time to see Frederick deliver justice to the last brigand standing.

“Chrom, are you—”

“I'm fine,” he lied. There wasn't a place on his body that didn't hurt, but he'd live. “Robin’s the one who needs your help.”

“Oh gosh, Chrom. What happened?” Lissa knelt beside them, carefully checking to gauge the extent of Robin’s injuries.

“It was the lightning that did it.” The maiden Garrick had been threatening earlier crept into view. She looked nearly as battered as he felt. “After he threw her into the wall.”

“Hold her really still,” Lissa ordered as she brought her staff around. The healing magic flowed out of the gem in a green flash.

“Will . . . will she be all right?” The maiden watched with wide eyes as Lissa worked.

“My sister is one of the most talented healers in Ylisse,” Chrom said with a warm smile in Lissa’s direction.

“Aww—”

“And Lissa’s a fair healer in her own right,” he added lightly.

The maiden gave him a startled laugh while his little sister pulled back and glared at him.

“Do you _want_ another concussion?”

“Will she make it?”

Lissa rolled her eyes. “Of course she will.” Then her expression went serious as it always did when she slipped into healer mode. “She’s going to need to rest for a bit though.”

Chrom nodded, then winced. “Do you think you could work your healing over here?”

“Of course.” Lissa gave him a sunny smile. She moved toward him, only to turn to the maiden. “How can I help you, other than there?” She gestured to the large bruise forming on her cheek and the smaller collection around her eye.

“Oh. Um . . .” The girl looked between them uncertainly.

“Don't worry,” Chrom said. “Let my sister see to your wounds. I'll be fine.”

“Right-o,” Lissa chirped, waving her staff.

“Milord.” Frederick approached him, eyes narrowed as he took in his injuries. “You are well?”

Chrom waved his free hand. “Just minor flesh wounds.” His chuckle turned into a grimace.

“And the girl?” Frederick’s brows snapped together as he glanced down at Robin.

“She fights, er, well.” Chrom coughed, remembering his astonishment when she'd lobbed her sword at the brigand. He could truly say that the brigand had been every bit as surprised as he had. “Better with magic than her sword. She has quick reflexes though, and I believe you could make a decent fighter out of her.”

“That's not what I meant, mil—Wait.” The look of horror on Frederick's face nearly made him laugh. Frederick only ever wore that expression when something seriously wrong had happened. “You can't mean to—”

“I can and I do.” The cuts and bruises he'd picked up were really starting to smart. He should have known not to tease his sister until after she'd healed him.

“But we know nothing about her, milord,” Frederick argued, his disapproval plain.

Chrom held up his hand. “Not so. Her name is Robin, and we know that she has no memories of her past.” Also, when push came to shove, she was likely to hurl something—lightning, a sword—at whatever was causing the problem.

“Milord, I must emphasize caution. And we know no such thing, only what she's told us. She could be—”

“She saved my life,” Chrom said. There was still an ongoing debate on who the most stubborn Shepherd was, but in this, Chrom was determined to win. He gestured to the girl whose head he still cradled. “She was gravely injured in the course of doing so. If she had meant me harm, there were any number of times she could have betrayed me today. I believe her actions speak well enough of her intentions.”

Frederick pursed his lips, but eventually acquiesced. He straightened, no longer a mentor and friend, but a lieutenant reporting to his superior. “The militia is sweeping the town, but to all appearances the threat has been neutralized. A fire brigade has been formed, and the healers dispatched.”

Chrom nodded. “And the casualties?”

Frederick remained impassive. “Minimal. Both of the civilians in general, as well as the militia. They are a credit to their town.” Only as he spoke the final sentence did he allow a gleam of pride to show.

“Good.” Suddenly it seemed easier to breathe. He couldn't fault Emm’s reasoning, but he wasn't sure how much longer they could strive toward her ideal. Not with that mad king doing all he could to incite war. While Chrom hadn't done more than mention the formation and training of the village militias in passing to his sister, he’d done all that he could to ready their people for what was coming.

They owed them that much at least.

“All right, brother dearest. Where doesn't it hurt?” Lissa was well acquainted with his fighting style.

“Lissa . . .”

“Fine, fine,” she huffed. “Hold still.”

As the emerald glow of the staff washed sweet relief over him, Robin began to stir. She struggled for a moment to open her eyes, and when she did, he was surprised by the intensity swirling within them.

“Welcome back. Feeling any better?”

She blinked slowly, a warm smile spreading across her lips. Her eyes started to flutter closed again, when they widened with alarm and she jolted upright.

“Whoa there.” Lissa snatched her staff back, narrowly preventing Robin from concussing herself on it.

“It's all right,” Chrom murmured as Robin frantically looked around. “Your plan worked. And thanks to Frederick and the others, we're safe now.”

She nodded, but the troubled look darkening her expression didn't go away.

“I only acted as my duty required, milord. Those defending their homes without the benefit of years of rigorous training are the ones who deserve the honor.”

Chrom put a hand on Robin’s shoulder. She flinched at his touch before mouthing a ‘Sorry’ and shooting him an abashed look. And well did he recognize that expression. It was the look of a person who wasn't quite sure the fighting was really over. “We do have to make certain the town is truly rid of its vermin. If it would set your mind at ease, you could accompany us as we make our final rounds.”

The stony look Frederick gave him was enough to voice his opinion on both matters. Chrom shook his head. He'd come around in time.

“Yeah, no. Not gonna happen.” Lissa said, folding her arms and adopting her warrior stance whenever she was dealing with a reluctant patient. So why was there a twinkle of mischief in her eye? That look, it never ended well for anyone.

Lissa pushed Robin firmly, but gently, back down when she moved to stand. “Magic can work wonders, but your body still needs to recover. You need to rest for a while.”

Robin’s expression turned a little more stormy, and Chrom debated whether he should warn her that mutiny in the face of this particular healer was futile. His little sister may look dainty and small, but she had an iron will under all those frills and lace.

Also a staff. A very hard metal staff.

“There is also the matter of the brigands themselves,” Frederick continued. He gave Chrom a pointed look. “Did you notice they spoke with a Plegian accent, milord?”

Chrom scowled. Of course he had.

Robin caught his attention and carefully traced letters right above his wrist before cocking her head to the side.

“Plegia? They are our westerly neighbors who have a habit of coming in small numbers to loot and harry the more vulnerable towns and villages with the hope of inciting war.”

The dastards. What did they hope to accomplish? After the war his father had waged, most everyone was bone weary of the senseless violence and killing.

There was always vengeance to consider, but the war had been no less kind to Ylisse than it had to Plegia.

“And it’s always the innocent townsfolk who suffer,” Lissa growled. “Outside the city walls, they're helpless.”

“You forget,” Frederick put in gently, “they have the Shepherds to look after them. Do not allow your anger to cloud your ability to see the good we're doing. Today is proof of that. Look at all the lives and homes that didn't perish. A great deal of that was accomplished by the people themselves.”

“You give us hope,” the maiden they'd rescued said with shining eyes.

“And more.” A weary looking man with a weathered and lined face approached them. “Because of your intervention, as well as the training you gave our men, greater tragedy has been averted.”

Frederick inclined his head as he gestured to the man. “This is Albin, Southtown’s Village Elder.”

Chrom got to his feet. “A pleasure to meet you, Elder. We are—”

“Oh, I know who you are, and you have my gratitude for all you have done, Pr—”

“Chrom will do,” he said, clapping the Elder on the back.

“Ah, well, it would be our pleasure to host you and your companions tonight to thank you for coming to our aid.”

“Wonderful!” Lissa lit up. “Real food! Warm beds!”

“We thank you,” Frederick said, “but we must decline. As matters stand, we must press forward to Ylisstol.”

Chrom sighed. The manner in which Frederick was very pointedly not looking at Robin indicated he was going to be stubborn about this.

“Frederick,” Lissa whined, her mouth curving into a pout. “Why!?!”

“Think of it this way, milady. The sooner we set off, the sooner we can return home.” Frederick never looked more cheerful than when he was about to impart some exercise in character building.

Lissa jabbed her staff at the sky. “But it's already past midday, and it'll be dark way before we're anywhere near home!”

Beside him, Robin got shakily to her feet. Eyes wide, she surreptitiously pointed at Frederick.

Chrom leaned over and murmured, “He's always happiest when he's about to bring down the ax.”

And indeed, Frederick was already listing the virtues of turning down creature comforts in favor of building some character along with beds made out of leaves and twigs. If Chrom hadn't been trying to save up some goodwill for when they arrived home, he would have laughed at Lissa and Robin’s twin looks of horror.

Lissa crossed her arms and doubled down on her pout. “Sometimes I hate you, Frederick.”

“Come on, Liss. Just think of all the character you'll come home with. Don't forget, you get extra points for every bug you eat!”

“Ew!” Lissa shoved him. “You're nearly as bad as Frederick.”

Chrom, hand to heart, adopted a look of wounded pride. “Perish the thought, dear sister of mine.”

“You know I'm right here,” Frederick cut in with a disapproving glower.

“Oh, we know, Frederick. We know.”

From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Robin's shoulders twitch. Well and good. At least after all that had happened she could still laugh a little.

Frederick sighed. “We had best be on our way then.”

“Speaking of,” Chrom said when Robin’s eyes went wide with panic. “We would like you to join us, Robin. If you have no other pressing engagements.”

Lissa elbowed him in the side and muttered something about the whole point of amnesia.

Robin looked surprised, but pleased.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to make her feel more welcome. “You really helped us out when it counted. The Shepherds could use a tactician like you.”

For some reason, much of her cheer deflated. He gripped Falchion’s hilt, wondering where he had misstepped. Fortunately his little sister knew what to do.

“Please say you'll come. At least until you can remember who you are and where you're from.” She hooked her arm through Robin’s. “Plus I'll get to show you Ylisstol, and I can't wait for you to meet my sister!”

In that regard, Lissa and Frederick were in agreement. Although Chrom was a little curious at how Emm would receive Robin. If he were to hazard a guess though, Frederick was going to be disappointed.

“You would make a fine Shepherd,” Chrom tried again.

A cloud of something or other hovered over her, but Robin gave him a small nod.

Lissa squealed and promptly launched into a description of Ylisstol that would have made even the crustiest heart yearn for all the wonders she extolled.

Frederick was looking especially long suffering as he assured the Elder that aid for rebuilding would be on the way. Chrom stood back, content to allow him to take the lead.

After the day they’d had, the return trip home should provide a quiet reprieve.

He waited until Lissa had to take a breath—Robin had gone glassy eyed at this point—before he pulled her aside.

“Will she be fit for travel?”

Lissa narrowed her eyes in Robin's direction, the healer inside warring with her enthusiastic nature. “I'll keep an eye on her. At worst, she can ride with Frederick if she gets too tired.”

From Robin’s not too subtle reaction, he had a feeling she would walk all the way to Ylisstol or die trying before she ever allowed such a thing to happen.

“Milord?” Frederick appeared with his mare Quicksilver, watered and ready.

“Right,” he said, leading the way. “Let's go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mirrored from FF.Net under the same user name.
> 
> I found it strange that, for the most part, the villages and towns all depended pretty much on the Shepherds to keep them safe. It works in the game. In real life, not so much. With Chrom's propensity for recruiting pretty much everyone he met—questionable circumstances or not—I figured that while he could understand his sister's aversion to having much of a military, he wouldn't just sit by and allow innocents to be killed. Thus the militias the Shepherds worked on forming and training while they made their rounds of the halidom. (I'm trying really hard not to think of all those villagers I lost in my first play through because I mistakenly thought they would _flee_ from danger, not sprint toward it. I like to think the villagers in this story have a healthier sense of self-preservation.)


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

The road back to Ylisstol was a long one.

Lissa talked as they walked, but her chatter hadn't been idle, Robin soon learned. Once she had run out of virtues to extol about her home, Lissa had turned her attention to Robin’s side of the conversation. Or, rather, the lack of it.

“We have to figure out a better way,” Lissa had announced after failing for the umpteenth time to discern what word Robin had scrawled into her hand. “Walking makes it too bumpy, and you tend to flourish.”

Robin waved a hand in denial, but Lissa shook her head. “Nope. You definitely flourish. I don't know how Chrom catches on so quick.” She gave her brother a mischievous look from the corner of her eyes. “His handwriting looks like Quicksilver tried her hoof at penmanship, and I don't think he's visited the library since he was my age.”

Chrom put up his hands defensively. “Not so! I've spent many an hour holed up in the library.”

Lissa rolled her eyes. “It doesn't count if you're hiding from Frederick.”

Robin covered the silent giggle that escaped, and Chrom’s cheeks flushed with color. Then she patiently traced her question onto Lissa’s palm.

“Quack . . . Quirk . . . Sable?” Her brow furrowed with confusion.

Perhaps, Robin admitted to herself, she did flourish more than she realized.

“Frederick's horse,” Chrom supplied, a grin tucked in the corner of his mouth.

“Wait, what?”

Robin nodded, then frowned, pointing to the mare’s side. She lost Chrom there, and had to spell it on his hand.

_She isn't silver._

He snorted. “No, but she's fast.” Then, when Robin eyed the mare skeptically, he added, “When she needs to be.”

Lissa growled in frustration. “There you go again!”

‘Sorry,’ Robin mouthed, contrite. It wasn't Lissa’s fault they were having difficulties communicating. It was rather difficult to spell things out while walking, especially since Lissa had a bounce to her step and had broken into a skip on more than one occasion.

“It isn't you're fault,” Lissa sighed. “We just need to come up with a different system. One that isn't bothered by bumps or flourishes.”

“If you don't mind, milord, there are a few things we need to discuss,” Frederick intoned. He’d dismounted and was staring at Chrom expectantly.

“What do you have in mind?” Chrom asked, lengthening his stride to walk beside Frederick.

“What about writing it dow—nah.” Lissa waved her hand dismissively. “That would make things harder.”

Robin chewed on her bottom lip. It would be nice to not have to grab people by the hand. While her current system worked, it was a bit too . . . close for comfort. She was discovering her need for personal space was a little bigger than was convenient if she wanted to communicate.

While they walked—Robin blessed the unusual silence—she twiddled her fingers. As she did, she could almost fancy that some of her movements shaped her fingers so they almost looked like letters.

She frowned. Of course she could see the letters. She knew what she was looking for. The question was whether or not anyone else could.

Well, no time like the present to find out. She tapped Lissa on the shoulder.

“What've you got?”

Pleased they were thinking in the same direction, Robin carefully formed one of the simplest letters with her finger and thumb.

“Hey,” Lissa said. “That looks a lot like an ‘L.’”

Robin nodded, some of the younger girl's enthusiasm finally rubbing of on her. Then she cupped her hand to the side.

“Ha! That's a ‘C’!” Lissa rubbed her staff absently with her thumb. “What about this one?”

Robin mouthed ‘O,’ much to Lissa’s delight.

“We've got this! Now we just have to figure out the rest of the alphabet, and we'll be good to go.”

And that was exactly what they did.

Time passed quickly as they traded some letters and debated others. But by the time Chrom cleared his throat to announce they would be stopping for the night, they'd come up with a workable alphabet they both approved of.

Now that her mind was no longer occupied, Lissa started grumbling about all the bugs.

“We could have stayed somewhere that had four walls and a roof to keep the bugs out, you know.” She yelped and slapped at her arm. “Urgh! These ones bite. That's just great.”

“Come on, Lissa,” Chrom chuckled. “Hardship builds character.”

“I've built enough character for one day, thank you very much!” Lissa didn't quite shout. “And furthermore—”

A curious expression crossed her face before she started gagging. “Ew! Ew! Ew! I think I ate a bug!”

Robin stood frozen, unsure how to respond. Lissa couldn't exactly un-eat the bug, and she wasn't choking . . .

Chrom solved the matter by fetching a water skin and holding it out to his sister. “And look at that. Not only have you faced down all the hardship this patrol has offered, but you went for the extra merit on top of that. I'm proud of you, Lissa.”

_Proud?_

Robin pursed her lips, thinking. _Remembering_. Chrom had said something about extra merit for every eaten bug. She put her hand up to cover her laugh, but from the glare Lissa sent her way, she hadn't moved quickly enough.

“Want to help me gather firewood?”

Lissa didn't deign to reply. Instead, she aimed the water skin at her brother and squeezed the sides.

“Lissa!”

Robin took a few steps back. The water skin looked empty, but she wasn't willing to wager sleeping in wet clothes on it.

“As it is growing darker, we should clear a campsite,” Fredrick said with an air of stoicism that told her he was well used to such happenings.

At that moment, Robin’s stomach grumbled loud enough to be mistaken for a cranky wyvern. She quailed as everyone looked at her.

Chrom gave up trying to wring out his tunic. He shook his head. “We should probably see about supper.”

“Ah, yes.” Frederick looked uncommonly pleased. Even in the dim light, Robin could have sworn it was the exact same look he wore when he had been extolling the virtues of sleeping in a tree.

On the ground.

“A bit of hunting is in order, I think.” Frederick rubbed his hands together.

“Right.” Chrom took charge once more. “Robin and Lissa, why don't you set up camp while Frederick and I see about catching supper.”

Frederick looked like he was about to protest, but clammed up after a brief silent exchange with Chrom.

“Fine,” Lissa grumbled. “Just try to find something that actually resembles food.”

“I make no promises,” Chrom said cheerfully before heading out with Frederick.

Lissa rolled her eyes. “Prepare yourself. We could end up eating tree bark soup.”

_I think not_. Robin’s fingers moved fluidly through their improvised letters.

“Why not?” Lissa crossed her arms, waiting.

Robin concealed as much of her grin as she could. She pointed to the empty water skin. _No water_.

Lissa started at her for a moment before she chuckled. “Ha! How's that for thinking ahead? Now, what do you know about setting up camp?”

It turned out, not that much.

After they found a spot that looked large enough for their party, Lissa set Robin to work digging the fire pit and lining it with rocks.

Robin wanted to be surprised at the selection of things Frederick somehow managed to fit in the saddlebags, a trowel and small pickax for starters, but she was pleased she'd guessed that part of his character correctly.

Meanwhile Lissa had gathered firewood along with some longer branches, courtesy of a miniature ax Frederick had stowed away. She set about shaping the branches into a simple, but adequate, stand for a spit. Between the two of them, they managed to get a decent fire going, and only set the stand on fire once or twice.

“Don't ask me how I know,” Lissa said when Robin inquired, “but if the boys come back with anything, it'll be meat. Something about the thrill of the hunt and protein. Personally, I don't think Chrom paid too much attention to the herbs and foraging part of his education.”

Robin snickered. _Whatever it is, I hope they bring enough of it. I'm so hungry I could eat a bear._

Lissa groaned. “Whatever you do, don't tell Chrom.”

“Don't tell me what?”

Chrom and Frederick appeared as if by magic, lugging something large enough they'd needed to strap it to an improvised wooden pole to carry back.

“Please tell me that isn't what I think it is.” Lissa covered her mouth in horror.

“What, this?” Chrom and Frederick placed it carefully on the spit. When it held, he smiled at his sister. “You're getting better at this, Liss.”

“An excellent job,” Frederick hummed as he inspected it.“There's a few places where the twine might have been tied a little tighter, but on the whole, a marked improvement.”

With a few deft twists to the twine in question, Frederick went to work. The stand shuddered a bit at first, but he soon had a serviceable spit going. The meat started browning faster than Robin would have thought, and every so often a bit of fat or grease would drip down into the fire with an audible sizzle. Her stomach growled again, this time in anticipation.

“Don't change the subject.” Lissa put her hands on her hips.

“Yes, well . . .” Chrom rubbed the back of his neck. “This isn't exactly back home. Part of toughening up is accepting what's available.”

Lissa covered her face with her hands as she collapsed onto a log they'd dragged over to sit on by the fire. “I knew it. I'd know that stinky old boot smell anywhere. It's _bear_ , isn't it?”

Robin raised a brow. She'd only been teasing earlier, and had thought Lissa had been too.

“More like half a bear,” Chrom admitted.

Robin sat next to Lissa and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. If that delectable smell coming from the fire smelled of old boots, then she needed to rethink her opinions on old boots—whatever they may have been in the past.

Lissa, however, was far from comforted. “I'd be happy to accept any available food that normal people eat. Which bear isn't.”

“Come now.” Chrom sat down on the other side of her. “How many of your friends can boast of even tasting bear meat, let alone eating a healthy portion?”

Lissa glowered at him. “None. Which is kinda the point.”

They sat in silence after that.

Though she tried to focus on her friend, the glow of the campfire pulled Robin’s gaze toward it. Frederick might have cut an intimidating figure, but he obviously knew his way around a spit. The meat had cooked evenly, and looked plump and tasty and wonderful. Her stomach rumbled with agreement.

After what felt like a small eternity, Frederick deemed that supper was ready. He collected some plates and eating utensils, along with a few mugs, from his saddlebags. Robin watched him cut and prepare each plate, more than nine-tenths convinced his saddlebags were magic. Need a small, serviceable pickax? Here you go. What about a matched place setting? Have four. Twine? Don't worry, here's some spools in a few different colors. About the only thing the bags couldn't produce on demand was a table.

Yet.

“You must keep up your strength, milady. Enduring what may seem like hardship to you is one of the surest ways to build a character that will make both Ylisse and the Shepherds proud.”

“Hmph.” Lissa picked at the plate he'd offered her. “I notice you didn't prepare a serving for yourself, Frederick. Don't you want some character building old boots to munch on too?”

Frederick paused after he handed Robin her plate. It was hard to tell in the dim lighting, but he might have been blushing. “I-I’m not hungry. I had a large lunch, and gluttony—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Glumly, Lissa speared some meat before letting it fall back onto the plate.

“Come on, Lissa. Dig in. Even if bear isn't your favorite, meat is meat.”

“Ha! As if this was food. Robin, don't you—”

Robin looked up from her plate guiltily. It had taken every bit of discipline she had not to gobble up her supper face-first. Even then, she'd burned her tongue more than a few times. Still, it was all worth it. Her stomach had gone from raging monster to mostly sated, and since it would be a shame to let any of it go to waste . . . She was just eating heartily to express her appreciation.

Chrom snorted, and Lissa elbowed him in the side.

“Of course anyone could enjoy this if they hadn't eaten for long enough.” Finished picking over her food, Lissa shoved her plate in her brother’s direction. “I'm beat, so I think I'm going to turn in for the night.”

“I've set up the bedrolls over there,” Frederick gestured to the far side of the camp. Close enough to be protected by the fire, but far enough away that they wouldn't risk cooking themselves in their sleep.

Robin tapped her chin as she made a mental note. If she was truly going to be a Shepherd, she was going to have to learn a lot quickly.

“How are you holding up?” Chrom asked, finishing the very last of his, and Lissa’s, supper.

_Well enough_. She'd formed the letters before she remembered that they hadn't had time to teach Chrom much of anything. Embarrassed, she attempted to apologize as best she could.

“Hmm. I almost got all of that. Could you do it again?”

So she did, slower this time.

Chrom leaned back against the log, beaming. “I'm glad to hear it. Most new Shepherds usually have at least a few days to acclimate themselves before being thrust into battle.”

Robin sighed. Now that her stomach wasn't trying to claw its way into her spine, all her little fears from earlier came rushing back. She pointed to herself. _Problem?_

“Is something wrong?” He sat up.

She shook her head and pointed at her throat. When that didn't work, she mimed speaking. Then, for good measure, _My voice._

“But you don't . . . Ah.” He settled back down with a cheerful confidence she envied. “We all have our problems. The important thing is you've got a Shepherd’s heart. Everything else will take care of itself.”

Robin frowned. Communication was still going to be a rather large hurdle. She couldn't expect everyone to learn the alphabet she and Lissa had concocted. As the newcomer, it was her place to blend in.

“If you don't stop that, you're going to give Frederick a run for his title.”

She jerked her head up to find Chrom watching her. He really did have kind eyes . . .

“Or you could be _worry_ to his _wary_. A matched set!”

“As amusing as ever, milord.” Sparks flew and the wood crackled as Frederick tended to the fire. “As it is late, we should determine who is to take first watch.”

“I'll do it,” Chrom said, putting his hands behind his head and tipping his head back to look at the stars.

When Frederick offered to take his place, Chrom waved him away with the assurance that he wouldn't be able to sleep right now, so one of them might as well take advantage in the lull of activity. Besides, he was still trying to dry out properly.

“Very well.” Frederick was clearly not completely comfortable leaving the fireside. His gaze flicked over to Robin and back to Chrom so quickly she nearly missed it. “If any trouble arises, you have but to call.”

Robin would have scowled at him if she hadn’t been busy covering a giant yawn. By the time she had finished, he had already retired to his bedroll.

“You should probably get some sleep too.” Chrom tossed a twig into the fire. “You never know when something else is going to explode.”

The ground of their campsite was neither rocky nor as hard as the road they'd trekked upon earlier. Soft tufts of long grass spotted the ground, and a mix of clover and other greenery provided a kind of springy surface. Even so, Robin wasn't all that eager to lay down on it. She was about as fond of bugs as Lissa was. And while she'd managed to hold onto her pack, it wasn't large enough to hold a bedroll.

Speaking of her pack, she was going to have to go through it once they got to Ylisstol. Maybe there was something inside that could provide a clue to her identity. That thought both excited and frightened her. While there were definite drawbacks to not having any memory of who she was before, at the same time that meant she could be anyone she pleased right now.

So who did she want to be—aside from someone with poor sword fighting skills and an even poorer sense of self-preservation?

That was a question for the stars.

The log she was sitting on didn't appear to be in any state of decay, so she eased herself down on it, content with the knowledge that there were likely fewer bugs here than in those soft bits of clover.

The sky above was dark as pitch, but it was a friendly kind of dark, and nothing at all like the darkness she had struggled with before Chrom and Lissa had woken her up.

“I believe the bedrolls are over there,” Chrom said, pointing in the direction Lissa lay. “Frederick always packs extra, so there should be plenty.”

Of course he did.

One day, when she had saved enough gold, Robin was going to beg, borrow, or steal a set of enchanted saddlebags of her own.

Also a horse. If necessary.

_Are you sure?_

Chrom nodded. “After all the excitement we've had today, it would be a good idea to rest up while you can. One of the first things you'll learn in being with the Shepherds is to enjoy the quiet while you can.”

That didn't sound ominous at all.

A strange feeling came over Robin then, and she wasn't sure exactly what it was. As she shuffled over to the bedroll nearest Lissa—Frederick was stationed at the foot of a tree where he slept sitting up in full armor—she tried to unravel it. Odd as it was to say, she didn't feel like she quite fit in under her skin.

Chrom, Lissa, and even Frederick to a point, had not only taken her in, but had taken her under their wing. It was a curious feeling being sheltered there, and one that felt so alien she was certain she hadn't had a similar circle in whatever her previous life had been.

If she allowed herself to be honest, it was a rather nice feeling. She wasn't alone. She had others she could rely on.

So why did this lovely, wonderful feeling come with so much weight and fear?

The stars burned white above her, and she stared at them, wondering if she had known their names and what she'd thought of them. Or if she'd even cared.

Her throat burned as thought and emotion collided. The path beneath her feet was clear—she was a Shepherd now—but had it always been so? And what path had she been walking when . . . whatever it was that had stolen her memories and voice came and took them away?

Chrom said she had a heart of a Shepherd, but how could he know for sure? Had she always had such a heart? And if not, if her true self asserted itself, and that self was the sort of thing the Shepherds fought against? What then?

The burning in her throat intensified. She clutched her pack to her chest and curled around it, squeezing her eyes shut. In it might lie the answers that could set her free.

Or they could be the very thing that proved her undoing.

* * *

Chrom flicked a few twigs into the fire. The fire had died down somewhat since earlier this evening. Instead of dancing brightly, wood crackling, and sparks flying, the flames had curled around the logs and burned more reddish orange than yellow.

He frowned at the fire. Though contained, it brought back bitter memories of the day. Southtown could always rebuild the buildings gutted by fire—and they would. But they shouldn't have to.

His father’s war had bled his own people. They were tired, and after years of uncertainty, years of losing those they loved, they deserved the peace his sister was trying so hard to give them.

It was times like today that made him question whether Plegia had a heart at all or if the desert sun had turned it to a blackened stone. The war his father had waged against Plegia had been a long, brutal campaign. Surely they had to be just as weary from all the fighting.

And then there were the reports Sully had brought in.

They were rumors, for the most part. And disturbing for all that they might have been nothing more than whispers. Just thinking about them made the night draw in close, hunching just beyond the light of the fire.

He shifted uneasily, feeling foolish for the unease prickling along the edges of his consciousness. He was no longer a babe to be jumping at shadows.

And yet . . . The idea that Plegia had either unearthed or created—the reports could never agree on which it was—a cult of sorts that idealized death to the point of worship . . .

Chrom shook his head, unable to comprehend such a thing.

Yet the brigands had borne the mark of this cult’s foot soldiers. From the wyvern skulls they donned as helmets, to the wyvern skin cowl they wore about their shoulders.

He leaned forward and stirred the fire with a stick that had been resting nearby, no longer able to contain a shiver. Some of the brigands may have been play acting, caught up in the fervor of power and riches. But there had been a few, living men with dead men’s eyes . . .

The darkness pressed in deeper still, smothering everything the light didn't touch.

Restless now, Chrom got to his feet. He couldn't shake the weight of a thousand eyes, peering out at him from the night. And beneath each pair of eyes were sharp teeth.

He shook his head again and gripped Falchion’s hilt. The blessed sword had always given him courage when he needed it before, and he could almost feel a warmth emanating from the blade.

As though Naga’s thoughts had turned toward Ylisse in that moment . . .

“What's wrong, big brother?” Lissa yawned as she wiped the sleep from her eyes.

The weight pressing down on him eased back a little as his little sister stumbled groggily toward him.

“I'm sorry, Liss. I didn't mean to wake you.” The darkness had drawn back a step, but it wasn't gone. The knuckles on Chrom’s hand went white as he squeezed the hilt.

She shook her head. “You didn't answer my question.”

“I'm sorry. I—” He sighed. The point of this patrol was to allow Lissa to grow into the adult she would be one day. “Something is amiss. I'm going to have a look around. Why don't you—”

“Not alone you aren't. I'm coming with you.” Lissa glanced around, picking up the ominous feeling that coated the night. She was also wearing that expression she wore whenever she had decided on something. At such times, it would have been easier, and more sensible, to politely ask the castle to relocate to the south of Ylisstol.

Chrom glanced over at Frederick who, even in sleep, hadn't forgotten the promise he'd made to Emm. A promise Chrom hadn't been meant to overhear. As for Robin, she was huddled under her blanket and completely still.

He turned back to Lissa. “So long as you remember this is still an official patrol. That I'm not acting as your brother, but as your—”

“Captain. I know.” Lissa crossed her arms and gave him a look that promised there would be frogs in his future. “You're the boss. Let me grab my staff and we can go.”

“I don't think you'll really need your staff, Liss. We're just taking a quick look around. I doubt we're going to be ambushed by bandits.”

“One of the first lessons a good Shepherd always learns is be prepared. Also, you tend to break things, so I'm just taking reasonable precautions.”

Chrom waved his hand in exasperation as they began their rounds. “We're in the forest, Liss. There isn't anything to break out here.”

Lissa narrowed her eyes as she surveyed their environment. “There's always the trees.”

“You really think I'm capable of breaking the forest?”

“If anyone can do it, you can.” She gave him an angelic smile that worked on everyone but those who knew her best.

Most of the time.

“Frederick would have my hide.” His shiver was only partially exaggerated. In a lot of ways, his stern lieutenant was like the older brother he’d never had. Polite. Proper. Responsible. And surprisingly fierce when crossed.

Lissa giggled. “Yeah, and you don't want to scare Robin off before she meets the rest of us.”

“No, probably not.”

“So what post are you planning on giving her? Word around town is she has some one-of-a-kind sword techniques.”

Chrom snorted. He still couldn't quite believe it, and he'd seen her throw her sword at the brigand with his own eyes. “That would be understating matters. Actually, I'm planning on making her our tactician. She managed to keep her head when we were under attack, took charge, and she made sure we all pulled through.”

“Hmm. But how is she going to . . . tactic, or whatever she's supposed to do?”

“Just like she did in Southtown.”

“Yeah, but she can't be glued to your side every battle, and she's still got to be able to communicate her orders to everyone else.”

Chrom frowned. Robin had brought up the same reservations. “You two worked out an alphabet. We can start there.”

“Yes,” Lissa nodded, “because signing words to each other can be heard over the sound of battle.”

“You're not helping, Liss.”

She held up her hands. “Hey, I'm not trying to talk you out of anything. I'm glad we found her. I'm just mentioning things you're going to have to work out, boss.”

“And we will,” he promised.

“Good.”

They walked in what ought to have been companionable silence, but the darkness had grown teeth once more.

“Ugh. It's so dark out here. And quiet! Where’ve all the birds gone? Even the insects stopped chirping.”

Chrom froze. There was too much . . . malevolence in the air for it to just be the darkness of night. “Hold, Lissa. There's something amiss.”

They both strained to hear whatever the invisible threat was. But whatever it was, it was in no hurry to show its face.

Just as he started to relax his guard, the earth beneath them rumbled hard enough to nearly knock them off balance.

“Chrom, what’s happening?” Lissa shrieked, wide-eyed.

Chrom remained motionless, head cocked to the side. He could almost hear something . . .

The ground shook again, making up his mind for him.

“Lissa, run!”

“What?”

Something bad was coming.

“Lissa, Go!” He shoved her away. “I mean it!”

She took off running with him at her heels. The trees about them swayed and creaked as the ground continued to quake, bucking against every step they took.

A deep groan came from beneath their feet, and the shaking intensified until the land itself was torn in pieces, each patch of ground sitting at odds with the patch next to it.

This only served to make them run faster, until each breath burned a jagged line in their sides. Chrom shoved aside both the panic and the discomfort. They needed to get back to camp now! If there was even a camp to get back to.

“This way,” he called as they came to a fork in the path. He vowed to thank Frederick later for drilling into him early on to always make sure he knew how to retrace his steps.

All around them now, the earth shuddered as though it strained against its bonds, some dark monster hidden beneath, fighting to break free.

Just when Chrom thought this would be the worst of it, balls of fire rained down from the heavens.

They arched across the sky, slamming into the earth with such force that trees exploded. One after another they came, devouring everything in their path. The world had gone from quiet dark to bone jarring orange and red in what seemed like the blink of an eye.

Smoke formed a thick fog that choked whatever the flames couldn't yet reach. The parallels to Southtown sat uneasily at the back of his mind.

“Chrom!” Lissa cried as a particularly violent explosion rocked the ground just off to their right.

“Stay close, Lissa!” He had to shout to be heard over the roar of the fire. Marking her position, he continued to run as though the earth dragons themselves were after them.

They rounded a sharp corner, breathing hard. But there, not too far distant, was a clear dividing line between forest and inferno.

“You with me, Liss?” The words tasted like ash, and the smoke stung his eyes. Just a little farther and they'd both be safe.

She yelled something in return, but the greedy flames snatched away the meaning, and then the words themselves as they crackled and feasted upon the bounteous wood.

A few more strides and . . .

The path abruptly disappeared. Calling out a warning, Chrom jumped over the edge of the path, tucking into a roll as he landed. A few breaths later, Lissa landed in a breathless heap of soot-stained yellow.

“You okay?”

The change in their environment was astounding. While firelight danced seemingly in the sky behind them, the smoke no longer stole their breath and the hot air had gone cool.

Lissa stood, bent over, hands on her knees as she focused on catching her breath. But they were safe, and that's all that mattered.

“Chrom.” Lissa tugged on his arm, pulling his attention away from the flames. Her eyes were wide as she pointed. “What's _that_ up there?”

He turned in time to see white light fly toward the center of the horizon. It gathered in the center, rippling as though alive, then exploded into runes that formed around a white crescent.

Chrom opened his mouth to reassure her, but nothing came out as he watched the crescent expand and then open as though it were some sort of eye. Which thing was horrifying in its own right. He was not learned in the ways of magic, but he was certain those runes formed some arcane, dark focus.

He was rewarded a moment later when a few dark forms were spewed out of the eye. They fell heavily just outside the clearing where he and his sister stood.

Lissa whimpered something as she ducked behind him. Chrom wanted more than anything to tell her it would be all right, but the things had gotten to their feet and their eyes glowed red.

“Lissa, better stand back,” Chrom ordered as he drew Falchion from its scabbard. He might not know the exact nature of the whatever those things were, but Falchion had never failed him before.

The blade slid free just as one of the shadowed figures charged him, eyes glowing, and groaning like the damned. It's movements were jerky, but swift.

But not swift enough.

It bellowed a challenge, vomiting purple smoke as it raised its ax. Chrom was ready for it, and Falchion slashed across its neck in a silver streak. Ending the menace where it stood.

Except the thing didn't fall.

It froze after it landed, its velocity carrying it a few steps beyond him. Then, with a cracking sound as it bent it's spine, the thing turned its head backward, regarding him over one of its shoulders.

Chrom barely had time to take that in before the ax swung toward him with an almost inhumane speed.

Not that these things were human by any stretch of the imagination.

Falchion swung up in a silver line, parrying the ax. His arms shook with the effort it took to keep the ax blade from completing its swing. With a grunt, Chrom twisted his blade enough to hook the ax and knock the thing off balance. Then he threw all his weight into ramming it with his shoulder.

The thing fell to the ground, limbs splayed out. Chrom didn't wait for it to get back up. Swinging Falchion, he leaped into the air and brought the blade around to bury the point in the thing’s spine.

To his surprise, the creature dissolved into purple mist. He rested his head against his hands, breathing hard, trying to process what had just happened.

“Ahhh!” Lissa cried out.

Chrom jerked his head up in time to spot the second creature advancing on his sister. And she with naught but her staff to defend herself.

“Lissa!” He wrenched his blade from the ground and sped toward his sister, knowing there wasn't enough time.

From the corner of his eye, he saw another shape land. But there was no time to worry about it now.

He watched with horror as the creature raised its ax, preparing to strike. Chrom ground his teeth as he forced a burst of speed—only to draw short as a second figure danced in front of the first, blade across its shoulder, absorbing the blow that had been meant for his sister.

Lissa cringed away, her eyes shut fast. When the strike failed to come, she cracked an eye open, quickly followed by the second.

The figure shook a little from the strain, turned its head in his direction.

“Help!”

The shout broke Chrom out of his trance.

“Right.” He charged toward the creature that was bearing its weight down on his sister’s savior. With a cry, he lunged forward, swing his sword in a vicious arc that would have cleaved a normal man in two.

The mysterious figure ducked and spun, mirroring his attack.

As their blades tore through the creature, it bellowed as it dissolved into more purple smoke.

For a moment, no one moved.

Chrom's heart pounded against his chest, but from all he could tell, Lissa was a little shaken up, but had suffered no harm.

Now that he was closer, the figure resolved itself into a young man with dark hair, plainly dressed. The stranger had his back to them, and Chrom kept his blade unsheathed. The stranger’s shoulders were a rigid line of tension as he slid his sword into its scabbard.

“Quite an entrance,” Chrom said, keeping his balance on the balls of his feet. The stranger had saved his sister, yes, but he wasn't taking any chances. “What's your name?”

The stranger half turned his face toward him, and Chrom caught the gleam of a mask that obscured most of the young man’s face.

But before he could answer, their attention was diverted toward something large crashing through the trees from behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, if anyone had anything similar to a fairy purse (the bag being bigger on the inside than on the inside) I figured it would have to be Frederick. After all, where else would he keep all those pebbles he picks up? 
> 
> I'm really enjoying the dynamic of Chrom's and Lissa's relationship. It's nice when they have space to tease each other in between explosions. There is also a reason why Lissa can't decipher Robin's letters on her palm that has nothing to With Robin's flourishes or Lissa's inability to sit still. More on that . . . later. Thank you for stopping by to read. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. (And apologies for the cliffhanger. The chapter had to either take the natural break here or become double or so longer.)


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

_Purple fire crackled all about her. It cast malevolent shadows across the ground where they twined about, hissing like snakes._

__

__

_But the most awful thing was the laugh. It meant that he had won and she had lost. Not only lost, if the gaping emptiness clawing its way out of her chest was anything to go off._

_No, she had been entirely defeated. All hope annihilated._

* * *

With a start, Robin’s eyes flew open.

She lay there, staring up at the sky, heart trying to beat its way out of her chest.

_Don't be silly_ , she chided herself once the fear had receded enough that she could think. _You're safe here. And you're not a child, to be jumping at shadows._

Even so, she abandoned all pretense of trying to go back to sleep. Instead, she pulled her boots back on and walked over to the fire. Chrom was a nice, steadying influ—

Hmm. She stared at the fire, or rather the lack of anyone near it. While she didn't yet know everything that went into being on guard duty, she assumed that the person designated for first watch was supposed to be, well, watching.

Frowning, Robin circled the fire just to be sure she hadn't somehow missed seeing him. Then, when that failed to turn up anything, she made her way back over to the bedrolls. Perhaps he'd just fallen asleep.

But there was no Chrom there either. And worse, Lissa’s bedroll was empty too.

Something was definitely wrong.

Hugging herself, Robin made her way over to where she had last seen Frederick. Fear squeezed tight about her chest, making it hard to breathe. What if he was missing too? Had they abandoned her?

But no. Relief flowed through her as she caught the glint of armor hunched over beneath a tree. Only when she stood a few paces away from him did she realize she had a problem.

How to wake Frederick without him skewering her in the process? Tapping his shoulder seemed the best bet, but that put her in skewering range. Maybe if she tossed a rock—a small rock—

A flash of orange streaked across the sky, and she promptly forgot all about Frederick. Then another. And another. They burned at a distance, disappearing into the treetops.

Beneath her, the ground trembled.

“Explain yourself.”

Robin startled, whirling around to face a very awake Frederick standing not five paces away. How had he moved so quickly? And so silently? For reasons she wasn't entirely certain of, she prayed she didn't look as guilty as she felt.

“Well?” He had crossed his arms, and even though it was dark, she could just make out a glower.

Shaking her head, Robin pointed to her throat. Had he somehow forgotten—

“I'm well aware you can't speak, but you spent the entire march creating a means whereby to communicate, so communicate.”

Quailing beneath his stony expression, Robin did as he asked.

_Chrom is missing. Lissa too._

His expression went flat. “What do you mean missing?”

Frederick had understood her? But how?

_Not there. Not by the fire. Not in bed._

“Where did they go?” he demanded, striding past her.

Robin didn't bother signing as she followed him. Not that she would have been surprised if it turned out he had eyes in the back of his head. Even so, how had he and Chrom picked up the signs she and Lissa had invented? She could have sworn they'd spent most of the march hashing out some kind of disagreement.

“Milord?” Frederick called, his tone strident. “Milady?”

The only answer was the soft crackling of the fire and the light show behind them.

Frederick rounded on her, his expression flint. “Know this. If you had anything to do with their disappearance . . .” He trailed off and went pale, the reflection of fire in his eyes.

Figuring she'd better get a word in when she could, Robin waited until his gaze fell back to hers. _I woke up only a few moments before you did._

“If milord and milady are out there, we must find them.” Having made this pronouncement, Frederick busied himself with getting Quicksilver ready and doing a cursory inspection of his armor and weapon.

_We?_ Robin wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly. Did this mean he believed her?

“You are a Shepherd now, Robin.” Frederick mounted Quicksilver and held out a hand.

Suddenly Frederick's mare looked a hundred times bigger than she had before. Robin had a quaking sort of feeling in her stomach that told her she had no experience with horses. Not with jaunty cantoring, and definitely not with galloping blindly into who knew what.

Impatient, Frederick reached down and pulled her up behind him. There was a moment where she was certain she was going to slip and fall, but between Frederick’s arm and a desperate lunge, she made it.

“Hold on.”

Robin had just enough time to squeeze her arms around him reflexively before Quicksilver leaped forward.

If she had had a voice, the wail she was silently screaming would have been left back at the campsite.

Along with her stomach.

In a way, it was a mercy that it was night out. Limited visibility meant she didn't have any idea how many close brushes with death she'd had. Though she was no horsewoman, Robin was fairly certain that it was the height of stupidity to be urging a horse so quickly through the forest with all its lovely trees and low hanging branches.

At least Frederick was taller than she was.

Scarlet tinted the night the closer they got to the place where all the fireballs had hit. The musty scent of smoke laced through the earthy smell of the forest. Robin wrinkled her nose against it, but didn't dare adjust her position lest she upset the delicate balance that kept her astride the mare.

The light changed once more to an orange glow, and Robin could just make out the whisper and crackle of a not too distant fire.

“Be mindful of your weapon and environment,” Frederick called as they plunged around something she couldn't see and leaped up onto an earthen ledge. “We won't know what we're facing until it's too late.”

She really didn't have the heart to tell him she'd lost her weapon back in Southtown. One irritated shrug on Frederick's end could spell disaster for her.

After far too long, they burst through into a large clearing. Everything was on fire, and the heat of it stifled what was left of the air.

“Milord, milady, are you hurt?” Frederick shouted, leaning forward in the saddle. A moment later, Quicksilver came to a halt.

Deciding to take the initiative, Robin slid off the horse. At some point her legs had turned to jelly, and she fell into an ungraceful heap. But it was a heap that wasn't moving, so she'd take what she could get.

“Frederick!” Lissa cried. Then as she came over to help Robin to her feet, “Robin! I'm so glad to see you guys!”

Robin wobbled a little. _What are you—_

“None of you are injured?” Frederick inspected them himself. “Thank the gods.”

“Thank the masked man who saved my life, you mean.” Lissa frowned, her pigtails twitching as she looked around. “Speaking of which, where’d he go?”

“We’ll worry about him later,” Frederick said grimly. He pointed toward dark shadows that had arrayed themselves in a loose formation in the clearing. “Do you know what those are?”

“Besides hard to kill?” Chrom shook his head. “All I know is that fatal strikes are the only thing that take them down. Otherwise, they know no fear, no pain. They're men, but . . . not men.”

In other words, the odds were not good. Frederick and Chrom were better than able fighters, but she and Lissa . . .

Robin cursed herself for not retrieving her sword, and for throwing it in the first place. What kind of idiot panicked like that? She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her coat, and was surprised to find some rather sharp corners.

Against all odds, her Thunder tome had survived. Yes, the binding had seen better days. And yes, there were only a few loose pages left. But she wasn't completely unarmed. Perhaps she could even help.

“I'm glad you both are safe,” a sooty Chrom said. “And I'm sorry for not—”

“Save your apologies for later, milord.” Frederick gestured to the shapes that were getting closer.

Robin squinted through the haze of smoke, wondering if becoming a Shepherd meant she would spend most of her time putting out fires. Literally.

Now that she was paying attention, she noticed there were some other shapes in the clearing as well. But no matter how hard she stared, she couldn't quite make sense of them. Tapping Chrom on the shoulder, she pointed.

“What? Oh, those are some old forts.”

She gaped at him. If those were forts, what were they doing standing out here?

“Hold a moment.” He caught her sleeve as she moved to rush past him. “They haven't been used in years, and look. That one’s missing the back half of the palisade, while the other has no walls to speak of.”

Oh.

“What are we gonna do, Chrom?” Lissa fretted, clutching her staff to her chest.

To nearly everyone's surprise, he turned to her. “Robin, do you have any ideas?”

She narrowed her eyes, studying the clearing. They could either try to pick the things off individually or round them up to be dealt with en masse. The only problem was they had no way to deal with them en masse.

So how to ensure their enemy was thinned enough to allow for them to gang up on them one or two at a time? A quick count showed there were around fifteen to twenty.

The irregular lines of the forts snared her attention again. She chewed on her lip as she thought. The answer was there, but it kept dancing just out of . . . reach.

Reach. They needed reach.

Robin returned her attention to the fort that was missing the back end of its palisade. She was taking a gamble on the entrance being small enough, and their enemy stupid enough, but it was better than being out in the open as they were.

She pointed to the fort. Then cupped her hands to mimic a bottleneck of sorts. Pointing to Frederick, she signed, _Guard entrance._

He out of all of them had the best reach.

She gestured to Chrom. _Ground support._

Chrom nodded. “And you and Lissa?”

Well, that would depend if the guard tower was sturdy enough to hold her or not.

_Backup._ Terrible back up, to be sure, but better than saying what they really were.

Liabilities.

Chrom gave her a thoughtful look. “Frederick, what do you think?”

“Better than being caught in the open, but far from ideal.”

“Yes, well nothing about our situation is ideal. All right. We're going to need to make a run for it.”

Robin pointed to Lissa, and then to Quicksilver. Then to Frederick.

_Vanguard. Clear path, ignore rest._

“You ready?” Chrom asked. While his brows were lowered as if caught in half a scowl, there was something about him that had come alive.

No, she thought as she nodded. Thrusting the precious tome into one of her coat’s inner pockets, she did her best to look confident.

“Right. On your mark, Frederick.”

The knight had already swung himself into his saddle, and was assisting Lissa to perch behind him.

Frederick raised his lance. “May Naga guard and guide you, milord.”

Then he was off.

Chrom sprinted after him, and Robin did her best to keep up.

Frederick cut down three of the four that stood directly between them and the fort, which left one for them to take on.

Robin fished out her tome, but only as a precaution. She needed to preserve what was left of it.

“I've got this one,” Chrom said.

She stepped back, only now fully appreciating the horror they faced. Lit up by the writhing flames of the hellscape, the . . . creature raised its ax, belching purple smoke as it bellowed.

Chrom parried and thrust, spinning on his heel to increase his force. Robin’s eyes widened as what she was seeing sorted itself in her mind.

That . . . that thing wasn't a not-a-man. It had very much been a man.

Before it had died.

Robin’s stomach rebelled at the thought, but that sickly sweet stench of decay. The blue-rimed flesh. And the sharp, jerky movements of muscles and tendons that had gone stiff with death . . .

With the ease of someone who knew better than to throw his sword at his enemy, Chrom jumped inside the dead man’s guard, his sword neatly severing the head from its undead shoulders.

“Let’s go,” Chrom said as she stared speechless when the corpse’s corpse dissolved into smoke.

They raced together to where Frederick and Lissa waited just outside the ruined back wall of the fort.

From here she could see the doors of the entrance, half hanging off their hinges. A stiff breeze, and they'd fall down.

Right along with her plan.

The double doors at the entrance were too big. Frederick would be an armored sitting duck if they placed him there. He couldn't very well stop them on the strength of his disapproval. Heart thundering in her ears, Robin shoved aside her doubts. It was too late for regrets. Their fights had alerted the other dead things that there were live things here to kill.

Four down, at least sixteen left.

But the tower, while decrepit, looked stable. She would be able to rain down what Thunder she could upon them, but what then?

“Captain Chrom! Hold up! I'm coming!”

Robin whirled around to see a cavalier racing toward them, shouting all manner ofinsulting epithets at their foes. The cavalier was a welcome sight, especially after Chrom relaxed a little and said, “Sully.”

A man who seemed to flow with the wind was running after this Sully of Chrom’s, waxing poetic about her beauty and . . . Had he just compared her to a bird?

Robin glanced at Chrom who could only shrug in return. A moment later, the cavalier reached them.

“Sorry, Captain. I never shoulda left you.” Sully turned out to be a woman with armor to match the fiery red of her short hair. Her steed glared at them all, tossing its mane in either agitation or challenge.

“I'm just glad you're here now,” Chrom said. “This is Robin. Robin, Sully.”

“Hey,” Sully grunted. “What in all the hells is going on out there? And why are we standing around when there's things to be killing?”

“Robin?” Chrom gestured for her to take the lead.

Sully joining them had evened the odds a little closer to foolhardy and a little further from desperate final stand. And she held a lance. Perhaps this could work after all.

Robin signed, _Guard_ , and pointed to Frederick and Sully before gesturing to the great wooden doors.

“Sully, my dove!” The man who had been chasing her looked a proper fop, but he held a bow in one hand and had a full quiver slung across his back.

“Who’s your friend?” Chrom raised a brow.

“Hell if I know. He just sort of followed me.”

“Ah, my lady,” the man put a hand to his chest, “you do wound me. If you had waited, I would have made a proper introduction.”

Lissa giggled, and Frederick shifted his hold on his lance.

“‘Tis I, Virion. The archest of archers at your service.” Virion swept into a bow that wouldn't have been out of place in front of the king and all his court.

“Look, Ruffles—”

“Ah, she speaks! Such beauteous melodies. My heart is in raptures, and I can no longer restrain myself. Marry me, dear Sully, and make me the happiest man—”

“Sully, with me,” Frederick cut in. He swung his lance toward the entrance of the fort which was conveniently in the same direction Virion was in. Virion, perhaps missing the stony glint in Frederick's eyes, leaped gracefully aside while continuing to express his devotion.

“Right.” Sully saluted Chrom before riding off with Frederick.

“Ah, my heart, how it breaks!”

Robin shook her head to clear it. With Sully joining them, Chrom could stay back with Lissa. There to cover if either of them needed him. That left her and—

“My dear sir, may I offer my services as the finest archer in all the land?” Virion bent in another elegant bow that made it difficult for Chrom to keep a straight face.

“Er, yes. Robin?” He coughed.

She sighed. Then pointed to Chrom and Lissa and motioned for them to wait a safe distance behind Frederick and Sully.

To Virion, she gestured for him to follow her. As they raced into position, she hoped she hadn't made a mistake. Hopefully Virion would be too busy re-killing the dead people to break her concentration with his flowery nonsense.

The fort was open with a roof only covering the guard tower. While rickety, the stairs held their weight as she and Virion sped up them.

“What would my lady have me do?”

Robin pointed to the first wave of five or six dead men who had nearly reached lancing distance to the front gates. Then to be clear, she mimed loosing arrows down below.

“Ah, my apologies, fair maid. I fear I am cursed with such magnificence so as to render you speechless. Worry not, for Virion is here to strike down even these fell creatures.”

With an impatient flick of her wrist, she gestured to the foe who were now crowded around the gates.

Figuring he'd know what to do, Robin took stock of her tome. She had three, maybe four spells before it disintegrated. She have to make every Thunder count.

“What, I wonder,” Virion drew an arrow, lined up his target, and loosed it, “are those creatures exactly? Their eyes are like those of demons.” He loosed another arrow or two while Robin studied the enemy below.

More and more were coming. And they even had an archer or two of their own.

Without thinking, Robin extended her hand, pictured the runes, and squeezed her tome with the other hand. The magic coalesced in her palm, a bright orb of light, before it sailed down and hit the archer right before it could loose its arrow.

Starbursts of light flickered through her vision, and her stomach twisted sharply as pain stabbed through her head. She grabbed the ledge of the open window, and leaned against it as she fought to get her bearings.

“Is milady unwell?” Virion asked without his usual pomp and flair, never pausing as he continued to pepper the ranks below with arrows.

Robin shook her head. There was no time for this now. She blinked rapidly and tried to focus on the swell of undead below.

Her vision cleared just in time for her to spot the second archer. This time she wasn't able to get her spell off in time. It hit the archer’s helmet, sparking, just as the arrow flew from the bowstring.

As before, the magic recoiled against her mind. She staggered against the ledge, breathing hard. Where had the arrow gone? Had it injured someone . . . or worse?

“Milady.” A hand pressed against her arm. “I think it is time you retire.”

She tried to shake off his hand, but the world seemed to shift under her feet with the movement. Robin set her jaw. All she needed was time to recover. Her tome held just enough power to focus one final spell.

“Come along then, my lady.” Virion maneuvered her away from the window and over to the stairs.

Robin attempted to dig in her heels as Virion firmly escorted her down the steps. Perhaps in retaliation for her recalcitrance, he started back up with his flowery speeches. Comparing her with who knew what or why, it was almost a relief when she heard Chrom call out her name.

“What happened?”

_Nothing. I'm fine._

“Something to do with her magic, I suspect,” Virion said. The traitor.

Her vision was starting to clear again, so she pasted on a smile to ease the worry line furrowing itself between Chrom’s brows.

_I'm fine_ , she repeated, signing each letter with careful deliberation. She may be fine, but neither her head nor her stomach had quite recovered. _See?_

Chrom frowned at her. “Lissa!”

“Be right there.” A flash of green light stabbed through her eyeballs to join the headache pounding behind her eyes. “Everything okay?”

_Yes!_

“Something about her magic. Can you see if there's anything you can do?”

“Sure thing!”

Robin pointed weakly toward the gates, but Chrom crossed his arms and shook his head. “Sully and Frederick have everything well in hand. The creatures are nearly done for.”

“Hold still,” Lissa ordered, giving her a look that bore strong resemblance to the one Chrom was giving her. Apparently stubbornness ran in their family.

“If you don't need me here, I shall see about dispatching what creatures are left.”

Chrom waved Virion on.

“We'll have you right as rain.” Lissa sounded far too cheerful for someone who was unarmed and in the middle of a battle.

But as the green light from Lissa’s staff wrapped itself about her, Robin forgot everything but how nice it felt to not be hurting.

“Better?” Chrom didn't even try to hide his amusement.

_Thank you._

“No problem,” Lissa said, pulling back her staff. “Be more careful. You promised I could show you Ylisstol. So stay in one piece, okay?”

Robin was about to reply when she froze. Standing near what was left of the back palisade was one of the creatures, only bigger and stronger looking than any of the others she'd seen.

“Robin?” Chrom turned to see what she was looking at. His stance changed, and he drew his sword. “Lissa, go assist Virion.”

“But Chrom—”

“Go!”

Lissa stuck her tongue out at her brother, and scampered away.

“You going to be okay?” He spared her a brief glance before turning his attention back to the main threat. Though he'd hardly moved, something about him reminded her of the stillness before a snake struck its prey. All that coiled up strength and power.

Robin nodded and gripped her tome hard enough to turn her knuckles white. One spell left, she'd better make it count.

“Right.”

Rather than waiting for the creature to attack, Chrom charged toward it, his blade held close to his chest. Robin scrambled after him, but made sure to maintain her distance. The last thing he needed was to trip over her because she was trying to be helpful.

The creature bellowed a challenge as it met Chrom head on. It expelled purple smoke that turned the air bitter and icy, although it did nothing to drown out the scent of death.

Robin toed the dirt as she waited for an opening. Chrom slashed and parried, stabbed and thrust so fast she couldn't keep track of each movement. Instead, he became a silver and blue blur.

Metal clashed as the creature raised his ax to meet each of Chrom’s strikes. While its movements were jerky, it was faster than the others they had fought.

Robin narrowed her eyes. Chrom was standing too close. She couldn't risk hitting him, but he couldn't go on like this forever.

“Don't worry, Robin. Chrom’s got this.”

She started, then blinked in surprise.

Lissa gave her a cheery wave then jerked her thumb back over her shoulder. “I'm still following orders.”

Virion inclined his head. He held an arrow ready, but hadn't yet drawn the bowstring.

A lecture she wouldn't be able to do justice to crowded her mind, but Robin shoved it aside. Since Lissa had insisted on being here, she might as well make use of her.

_Chrom’s too close. Need distance for us to strike._

Lissa nodded solemnly. “Back up, Chrom!”

Her brother stiffened at the sound of her voice. Then he ducked and jumped to the side as the creature continued its assault.

Sparks showered the ground as Chrom managed to twist out of the way of the ax, forcing the head to slide down his blade and onto the ground. The power behind the strike had left one edge embedded in the ground.

_Now._

But Virion had already loosed two arrows in the time it took to relay her orders. The arrows stuck out like an odd sort of ruffle around the creature’s neck, but hadn't penetrated far enough to be fatal.

Still, it gave Chrom the time he needed to clear some more distance between them without ceding too much ground.

Now it was her turn. Drawing in a deep breath, Robin took a few precious seconds to make sure each of the runes was focused clearly in her mind. She waited until each circle was complete before she cast the Thunder.

It sizzled in her palm, giving the air a metallic sort of tang. Then the tome disintegrated as the Thunder arched from her hand. The dust of the tome slipped through her fingers as she staggered against Lissa, lightning lancing through her eyes and across her vision.

The boom of magic exploding on impact was impressive enough to shake the timbers of the fort. And enough to ring through her ears, turning everything into a disorienting ball of chaos.

Blinking rapidly, Robin squeezed Lissa’s arm. Perhaps she shouldn't have thrown so much magic into it.

Waiting for her senses to return was agony. The soft fabric of Lissa’s sleeve was her only connection to the world.

“Ow.” Lissa yelped. “Easy there, Robin. He's almost got it.”

Though her vision was still obscured by her own personal light show, she eased up her grip.

_Sorry._

Robin pressed her other hand against her temple. Some of the lights dimmed out while the bits and pieces she could see firmed up.

Lissa swayed a little as she switched her balance from right foot, to left foot, and back again to right. “Come on, Chrom!”

Chrom shouted something. The creature screamed, and Robin’s vision cleared in time to see the last of the purple smoke dissipating.

Her hand tightened reflexively when she noted the numerous splotches of blood Chrom sported. But he was alive, and that's what mattered.

Lissa pried Robin's fingers off her arm and hurried over to her brother. Virion offered his arm, and though she hated needing it, her balance was still uncertain.

“Lissa,” Chrom grumbled.

“Not a word.” The green light from her staff pulsed as she worked on healing him. “I may not be able to fight, but when you need someone to stop the hemorrhaging, seal up your cuts, and mend your bones? That's my job, so you can just hush.”

“And when your captain gives you a direct order?” Chrom flinched as she prodded his shoulder.

“Then you obey.” She nodded toward Virion without taking her eyes off her brother’s wounds.

“I can attest to the lady’s veracity. She was by my side as I slew those most deplorable creatures.”

Chrom scowled at the dandy. “Shouldn't you be in the tower?”

“And so I was, until all but the last handful had fallen.”

“The last of which have now been dealt with.”

Frederick and Sully led their mounts over to where they'd gathered. They looked exhausted, and both of them had their own injuries as well as new dents and scratches in their armor. But what piqued Robin’s curiosity was the figure standing between them.

A butterfly-shaped mask obscured most of the face. The clothing was dark and simple, and gave no clues as to who the stranger might have been. Though nearly the same height as Sully, he or she was dwarfed in comparison to the mountains of armor on either side.

“It seems the creatures have all been vanquished. This young man took care of the others,” Frederick reported. “And while most of the fires are still blazing, they are dying out and should not prove a substantial threat.”

Lissa, finished with her brother, hopped over. “Um, I never got to thank you from before. So thank you!”

The young man nodded, but didn't speak.

Never one to give up, Lissa pressed on, “You were very brave.”

Chrom got to his feet and joined them. “You saved my sister’s life, for which I am in your debt. My name is Chrom. Might I ask for yours?”

The young man hesitated, then seemed to come to a decision. “You may call me Marth.”

Chrom’s face brightened. “Marth? Like the heroic king of old? You certainly fight like a hero. Where did you learn your way with the sword?”

Marth seemed to take a step back without moving at all. “I came not to speak of myself, but to offer a warning. This world teeters on the brink of a horrible calamity. Take heed, for you are running out of time.”

Having delivered his warning, Marth turned on his heel and sprinted away.

“The world’s teetering on a what now? Hey! Wait!” Lissa called.

But the hero had already gone. Robin shook her head. Aside from Virion and Lissa, his taciturn personality would have fit right in with the rest of them.

“Fear not, milady. With skills such as he possesses, I am certain we shall hear his name again.”

Lissa crossed her arms and pouted.

“But for now I'm more concerned about the capital. We should make haste.”

“Yes,” Chrom said, his expression distant. “The exalt and court must be apprised of the recent developments.”

“Court, you say?” Virion looked absurdly pleased.

Sully laughed. “Better you than me, Captain. Perfumed peacocks, all.”

The last part may, or may not, have been directed at Virion, but he seemed too happy to notice. No doubt he was daydreaming of all the real ‘miladies’ he could spout poetry to.

“Right. Let's pack up camp and head back home.”

Chrom fell in step next to Robin as they made their way back to the campsite.

“You did well.”

She made a face. Her plan might have worked out, but it had been sloppy and relied too heavily on chance. Not to mention, she should have had Chrom guarding the back of the fort as it was missing nearly the entire back wall. It had been a mercy the creatures hadn't thought to split their forces and go around . . .

And then there was the matter of her weapon—or rather, the complete lack of one. She hadn't inspected her pack yet, but she doubted she had enough gold to buy a replacement for her sword. Perhaps she could replace her tome, but that brought with it a whole host of other issues.

Why was her magic recoiling against her every time she used it? Had it always? And what was she to do about it? Losing her vision in the middle of a battle was the fastest way to die.

Worse—she might unwittingly cause harm to her companions instead.

“Replaying the battle in your head?” Chrom nudged her with his shoulder.

_Yes_ , she admitted ruefully.

He chuckled. “And going over every single mistake?”

Robin ducked her head, mortified. Had she been that obvious?

“You know, a wise old soldier once gave me some advice I feel I should pass on to you—stop it.”

She looked at him, surprised.

_He really said that?_

“I believe his exact words were, ‘Cease troubling yourself with such matters at this time, milord. You made it out alive, and that is the first matter of importance.’”

_Yes, but—_

He caught her hand, cutting off her protest. “I didn't say you should never review past battles. Indeed, it would be folly to never learn from your mistakes.” He stopped and looked her in the eye. “What I _am_ saying is that right now, just after battle, focus on what you gained, not on your failures. Plenty of time for that tomorrow.”

Robin frowned. Failure was a better word, but it felt worse. And why did it matter? Frederick and Chrom were both seasoned warriors. It had been simple courtesy that he'd asked her opinion.

Hadn't it?

“Going by your expression, we all died horrible, grizzly deaths.”

“Hey!” Lissa called, startling both of them. “Are you going to stand there holding hands all night? We have a camp to break up!”

Chrom dropped her hand and jumped away from her as if she'd struck him with a Thunder. He rubbed the back of his head, and even in the moonlight his face was bright with color.

“Yes, well, think on what I said. I, er, Frederick. Things to discuss.” Then he hurried up to where the rest of their party was waiting for them.

Sully said something she couldn't quite hear and punched Chrom in the shoulder.

Robin quickened her step, her ears burning. Thankfully they still had a long way to walk, because she didn't think she'd be able to go back to sleep.

On the other hand, she wasn't sure she was ready for morning. Morning meant arriving in Ylisstol. Which would make her being a Shepherd more real than it was now.

There was also the matter of her pack and the answers it, or may not, hold.

For now she would take Chrom's advice and be glad of who she was and what she had gained. She smiled at the Shepherds as she entered the camp. For someone who had awakened that morning with nothing, she had, perhaps, in the course of less than a day, gained everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So zombies. Yet somehow Fire Emblem makes it work. I'm excited to delve into the lore behind the Risen, among other things. There's a particular Shepherd I can't wait for Robin to meet, although it's going to be a little longer yet before she's going to be able to use her magic without inducing migraineish consequences. It occurred to me while I was proofreading that Robin is the sort of person who pushes through things. She might be missing a leg and half an arm, but she'll still insist she's fine. Surely this will not cause any complications later on. Heh.
> 
> Thanks for stopping by! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. :)


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

By the time they made it to the small rise that looked over Ylisstol, the sun was shining and Robin was certain her feet were going to fall off.

Even so, the sight below made her catch her breath. A castle rose, all white stone glittering in the sunlight, above the city on a large hill of its own. A bevy of fairy tale-esque towers surrounded a central tower with a spire that stood gracefully against the pure blue of the sky.

“I told you it's beautiful.” Lissa came up beside her. She gestured to the city below the castle with her staff. “I can't wait to show you everything!”

Everything? Robin looked again with new appreciation for how very much there was of Ylisstol, even this far away. Still, once they found an inn and got some rest, there would be plenty of time for exploration.

Hopefully the innkeeper would accept services rendered in lieu of coin.

“Ah, but she is a gem, this shining city of yours, my dear Sully.”

“Are you still going on about that?” Sully asked in disgust. “For the last time, I'm not you're anything. Got it?”

“If we set a good pace, we should reach home right before mid morning,” Frederick said.

Quicksilver stamped her hoof, likely sharing her master’s impatience.

“Everyone all right with that?” Chrom asked, although he, too, looked eager for home.

Lissa groaned. “I may never walk again, but at least I'll be able to not walk in the comfort of my own room.”

Her brother laughed. “I'll take that as a yes. Robin? Virion?”

“My feet shall be as eagle wings, so fair is your city,” Virion replied airily, his eyes drinking in the sight before him. And yet . . . Robin couldn't put her finger on it, but there seemed to be a thread of sadness woven in his tone as well.

Chrom looked at her expectantly.

_Yes._

The promise of some dark corner where she could do nothing but sleep was too tempting an offer to refuse.

“Right, then. Let's go.”

While the path stretched on a few miles yet, it was made easier by the fact they were going downhill. The roads were better kept than the ones Robin had been acquainted with too.

Despite her best efforts, a bud of hope bloomed inside the place where all her common sense and reason grew. Whoever she had been before, she was herself now. A Shepherd. Standing on the brink of a new beginning, ready to enter the realm of fairy tales.

And nothing anyone did could change that now.

“You're going to love the castle,” Lissa said. “Thanks to Chrom, the barracks were renovated and everything is nice and new.”

_The barracks? That's where we're staying?_

Lissa nodded. “Uh huh. You’ll get your own room and everything.” She stopped and wrinkled her nose. “The rooms aren't huge or anything, but they're away from most of the fuss and bustle of the castle.”

Ha! She even got to live in the fairy tale castle. Perhaps she wouldn't have to worry about coin for her lodgings after all.

_It sounds wonderful._

“Would my lady permit me a question?” Virion asked as he fell in step with them.

“What do you want to know?”

He gestured to Robin’s hand. “What you were doing there, with your fingers. I've seen you do it throughout our march. What, may I ask, are you doing exactly?”

“Oh, that?” Lissa waved a dismissive hand. “Robin can't talk, so we worked out our own way of communicating. This is an ‘L,’ see? We have one for each letter of the alphabet.”

“Ah,” Virion leaned forward, intrigued. “So you spell out your replies? I had wondered why I had yet to hear your dulcet tones, milady.”

Robin ducked her head. Of course Virion was all fluff and ruffles, but she couldn't help blushing just the same.

“But I wonder,” he went on, “wouldn't it be rather cumbersome to have to spell out everything you want to say?”

“What do you mean?” Lissa asked. She stopped twirling her staff and cocked her head to the side.

“Well, what if this,” he hooked his thumbs together and flapped his fingers, “were to mean ‘bird?’ It would be quicker and simpler, don't you think?”

Lissa’s eyes widened and she jumped up and down, clapping. “Yes! Why didn't we think of that before?”

Robin was equal parts touched and horrified at Lissa’s eager expression. While it would be nice to ‘speak’ with words rather than letters, they would not only have to create a language from scratch, but learn it. All while they were also putting out fires and doing whatever else Shepherds did.

Fortunately, they had reached the gate, so she didn't have to try to put her tangled emotions into words.

The gatekeeper sat in his tower, head bent over his logbook. “State your name and purpose.”

“It befits a member of the Royal Guard to look a man in the eye when he is challenging him,” Frederick said. He was frowning, but that seemed to be his native expression.

“Who are yo— Sir Frederick!” The gatekeeper sprang to his feet, salute at the ready.

“That's better,” Frederick said in a tone that heavily implied _there will be a reckoning later on._

The gatekeeper must have heard and understood, because he winced. He ushered them through the gate with much bowing, saluting, and mumbled apologies.

“Already terrorizing the new recruits, eh?” Sully laughed once they were out of earshot.

“I don't understand your meaning,” Frederick said with dignity, although his lips twitched. “I terrorized no one.”

Chrom shook his head. “Just see that you don't terrify this one into resigning. Emm’s going to start wondering if we keep going through gatekeepers at our current pace.”

Whatever Frederick said in reply was lost as they stepped into the city proper.

Robin turned this way and that, trying to take it all in, and drowning in new sights and sounds.

“I told you it'd be amazing.” Lissa laughed at her reaction.

_So many people. I don't think I’ve ever seen so many people all together at once._

“You think this is a lot, wait until we get to the center!”

“Ah,” Frederick sighed. “The people and city have been spared the trouble we have encountered, it seems. The quake and its attendant problems must have been confined to the forest.”

“That's a relief,” Lissa said, holding out her arms as though to embrace the city. “Could you imagine?”

Robin shook her head. Out in the forest, the quake, the fire, and the creatures had been hard enough to deal with. Here, they would have been a tragedy.

Laughing, Lissa took her by the hand and pulled her along the smooth stone path. “C’mon!”

They had to slow down once the buildings, and people, became more frequent. Robin wasn't sorry, because it gave her time to really look around.

Most of the outer buildings closest to the gate had been roughly constructed from a darker shade of stone than the castle. But as they neared the city’s center, more variety appeared. Many were made of some combination of stone and wood, and were placed next to each other on either side of the path.

The air was not as crisp as it had been in the forest, even along the dirt road. It carried in it the smell of food and many of the wares the stall keeps offered. Yet underneath the spices and scent of people, the faint perfume of a flower she couldn't name teased her senses.

Someone had strung banners so they hung across the path, and they fluttered cheerfully in the slight breeze. Most of the doors and shutters—and anything else that was wooden—was painted bright colors that lent a cheerful air to the city.

“Well, what do you think?” Lissa demanded, bouncing in place.

_It's wonderful_ , Robin replied honestly.

Children darted all around them as their mothers visited with each other and shopped at the market stalls that were starting to pop up.

Everywhere Robin turned was a bubble of activity and noise, a stark contrast to the quiet of the forest. Before it had exploded, of course.

She was just about to say as much to Lissa when an older man called out, “Make way! The exalt is coming! Make way!”

The people moved aside, some of them exclaiming in excitement and others carrying on with whatever they'd been doing before.

Robin watched as colorful banners carried by the exalt’s vanguard bobbed in time with their steps, wondering.

_The exalt is your ruler, yes?_

“Uh huh,” Lissa said, standing tiptoe and craning her neck to better see the procession.

_Is it safe for her to be out here? Among the people?_

“Everything carries risk,” Frederick replied from beside her. She started, having forgotten that he'd managed to pick up their signs between waiting for her to do something nefarious and fighting actual nefarious dead people. “Peace is Ylisse’s most prized quality. A quality Lady Emmeryn embodies.”

Robin raised a brow. While peace was an underappreciated and under utilized virtue, it wasn't the first one that came to her mind as she absorbed all the sights and sounds Ylisse had to offer.

_Why peace?_

“Long ago, before this age began, an evil dragon was intent on destroying both humanity and the world. Our first exalt joined forces with a divine dragon to lay the beast low. Exalt Emmeryn reminds us of the peace we fought for then.”

“And with Plegia poking at our borders, the people need her even more,” Chrom said, his eyes on the woman emerging from behind the standard bearers. “She is a calming presence when others might call for war.”

Exalt Emmeryn was tall and fair. Her golden hair spiraled down either side of her face, perfectly framing it. She was dressed in green and white, but simply cut. An ornament, perhaps a crown, was fastened to the back of her head. When she stepped into the sunlight, it glowed like a halo, making the woman look almost otherworldly.

_Her people are fortunate to have her._

“She's also the best big sister anyone could ask for,” Lissa said.

_Yes, I'd imagine. Wait—_

“The exalt is your sister?” Virion asked, aghast.

_That means—_

“They are the prince and princess of the realm, yes,” Frederick said, his scowl back in place. “It is common knowledge.”

_But you said you were Shepherds_. Robin frowned, feeling as though she'd been tricked.

“And so we are, in a manner of speaking.” Chrom laughed. “We just have a lot of sheep.”

“I'll say,” Sully muttered good naturedly.

“Ah, Your Highnesses,” Virion flourished another bow, “you must forgive me. I had no idea—”

“Just Chrom is fine,” Chrom said in a way that suggested he'd had this particular conversation many times. “I'm not one to stand upon formality.”

Now that the exalt had passed, they continued on their way.

“But I ought to have suspected from your regal bearings. Although,” Virion treated Frederick with what on a person of lesser magnificence might have been called a grin, “that does explain why you, good sir, tolerate their teasing.”

“Indeed.” Frederick was the paragon of long-suffering. “Oh, the sacrifices I make for the good of the realm.”

“And one we all appreciate.” Chrom clapped Frederick on the back. “Emm should be returning home shortly. Would you like to meet her?”

Robin nodded, although her stomach twisted itself in knots. What would the exalt think of her? And what was she supposed to say? _Greetings, Your Grace. My name is Robin. Forgive me, but I have no memories and I can't talk, which is why I'm writing this all down. I hope you don't mind too terribly._

While Virion exploded with more flowery speech, Chrom leaned close to her.

“I think we all died horrifically again.” He pointed to her face.

Color flooded her cheeks. Robin vowed there and then that she would practice until not even Chrom could read her thoughts in her expressions.

“Don't worry,” he laughed, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I'm certain Emm will like you. Either way, I promise she doesn't bite.”

Easy for him to say.

Robin resisted the urge to hide her face behind her hands, and forced herself to smile.

“You know,” Chrom said lightly, “if you keep killing us at this rate, Frederick's never going to let me hear the end of it.”

Now Robin did bury her face in her hands. What was she doing here? She had no idea how to behave around royalty, that much is certain.

Chrom laughed again while Lissa demanded to know what was so funny. They traded banter the rest of the way to the castle, exchanging nods and pleasantries with many whose paths they crossed.

But the closer they got to the castle, the more turmoil twisted Robin's stomach. Doubts and fears burned bright. She wasn't anybody, not really, and yet somehow she had marched up the castle steps and walked down the halls as if it were nothing.

As if she belonged here.

Surely someone in Exalt Emmeryn’s position would see her as the fraud she really was.

Her stomach filled with bile when Sully begged off, insisting she had important matters to attend to elsewhere. Virion had been peeled away by a very polite, but firm, footman who directed him to a room filled with refreshments.

Maybe she would get lucky and the next footman would redirect her to a small buffet while the prince and princess, and Frederick, went on to do whatever it was they did.

“Right through here, milord.” A footman bowed while the doormen opened the two great doors with practiced ease.

The chamber beyond looked more like a hall than a proper room. It stretched onfor what seemed like forever. Arched pillars flowed gracefully down each side of the hall, interspersed by house banners at regular intervals.

In the center of the room, the exalt waited. The only other person in the chamber was a woman with light blue hair who looked horrifyingly like the female version of Frederick.

And the day had started so well . . .

“Emm!” Lissa cried, running forward to give her big sister a hug.

Chrom and Frederick followed, although only Chrom gave the exalt a hug, while Robin lagged behind. With each step, another doubt took root. What was she doing here? She couldn't even bring herself to imagine how it was going to feel when she was dismissed. From the castle, the Shepherds, and the only people in the whole world she recognized.

“Lissa, Chrom, you're home!” The exalt had a warm voice every bit as serene as she looked. “I've missed you so. And you, Frederick, welcome home. How fared you all?”

“Well,” Chrom spread his arms, “we shouldn't have any bandit problems for a while.”

“Wonderful!” Either the exalt had missed the implication or she'd chosen to ignore it. “And our people?”

“Safe as they can be, Emm. But we still need to watch the border.” From the way he stood, it was apparent they'd had this conversation more often than either of them cared for. “The brigands we dealt with had crossed over from Plegia.”

Frederick's female version stepped forward. “Forgive me, milord. My pegasus knights should have intercepted them.”

Chrom waved a dismissive hand. “No, Phila. Your duty was here with the exalt.”

“Besides,” Lissa had linked arms with Robin and dragged her up the rest of the way, “we had lots of help.”

Robin debated internally which sibling was going to be the death of her first. Chrom was a strong contender, but little stunts like this reminded her she couldn't discount Lissa either.

“This is Robin,” Chrom said, blithely unaware of how terrified she’d become. “She fought bravely with us against the bandits. I've decided to make her a Shepherd.”

Robin shrank down a little as the exalt turned her attention toward her.

“It seems Ylisse owes you a debt of gratitude, Robin.”

Robin ducked her head as she curtseyed, only to remember half way through it that she was wearing pants.

“She can't talk,” Lissa confided. “But she can fight!”

Robin withered. Yes, she definitely couldn't discount Lissa.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” Frederick stepped forward, “but as she cannot, I must speak.”

And then there was Frederick. Was it possible to _die_ of mortification?

The exalt inclined her head.

“Robin claims to have lost her memory, but it is only that, a claim. We cannot ignore the fact that she might very well be a spy, or even a brigand, herself.”

Death would be sweet. So very, very sweet. Any moment now.

“Frederick!” Chrom glared at him.

“Yet you allowed her into the castle, Chrom.” The exalt gave her brother a searching look. “Do you trust her?”

Chrom nodded without hesitation. “Yes. She risked her life for our people. That's good enough for me.”

“Robin,” the exalt’s tone was gentle, but Robin couldn't ignore the unspoken command to look up. “You have gained my brother’s trust, and as such, you have mine as well.”

Robin bobbed another curtesy before she could think about it.

To take the sting out of her words, the exalt turned to Frederick. “And thank you, Frederick. Your prudence is always appreciated.”

He bowed stiffly, his expression carefully blank.

The exalt smiled at him. “Chrom and Lissa are indeed fortunate to have such a steadfast guardian.” She gave her siblings a pointed look. “I hope they remember to express their gratitude from time to time.”

“They occasionally express something akin to gratitude, yes,” Frederick deadpanned, “Your Grace.”

“Hey!” Lissa said with mock indignation while her sister stifled a laugh.

“Phila, have you received any report of what appear to be some sort of man-like creatures?” Frederick asked, all solemn knight now that he'd done his duty in warning the exalt of Robin’s potentially nefarious nature.

Phila nodded, her brow furrowed unhappily. “We have. They have been sighted all across Ylisse.”

“Yes.” The exalt looked troubled. “We were waiting on your arrival to hold a special council. The heads of all the houses are present. Would you be able to join us?”

“If you require our presence,” Chrom said, not quite hiding a scowl.

“Do you mind if I get Robin settled in?” Lissa asked.

“Of course,” Chrom said.

She didn't dare look at Frederick to see his expression.

“Make sure you get her kitted out.” Chrom caught Robin’s gaze. “She’s one of us now.”

“Right. Let's get going, Robin. There's so much I want to show you.”

With more than a little trepidation, Robin curtseyed a third time before she allowed Lissa to drag her out of the hall.

With Lissa setting the pace, they flew down halls and bypassed corridors at a dizzying rate. The servants, apparently used to this, bobbed curtseys and bows while she waved.

“We should see to your room first,” Lissa said as they passed what looked like the kitchens.

Robin’s stomach grumbled, reminding her that it had been a while since she'd last eaten.

Lissa giggled. “Once you're settled, we can wheedle something from Cookie. She likes to pretend she's tough, but I know where she hides the best treats!”

Robin raised a brow. Who named their child something like that? Or perhaps it was some sort of obscure title.

They rounded a few more corners—nearly running down a maid carrying linens in the process—went down a few more corridors, before they arrived at two oak doors taller than both of them put together, but not as grand as those further into the castle. They were also the first doors they'd come across that didn't have a footman standing guard or hovering nearby.

“And here we are,” Lissa announced, beaming.

They slipped through the doors that led to a greatroom that was currently empty. A long table with chairs had been pushed to one side, and a dingy red carpet covered the center of the room. A few couches and chairs littered the space in various stages of upholstered defeat.

Lissa led her through the greatroom to where a few corridors split off on the other side.

“That one leads to the boys’ rooms,” she explained, pointing to the corridor on the left. “The middle leads to the offices and out into the training yard. This one is ours.”

They turned down the right-hand corridor. The floor was like the rest of the castle, but was a dark gray stone instead of white. The corridor was thinner than the others they'd gone through, but not constrictingly so.

Rows of oak doors stood on either side of the corridor, and Robin started to wonder exactly how many Shepherds there were.

“Will this one work?” Lissa stopped in the center and opened a door on the left.

The chamber inside was small, but cozy. And like the rest of the corridor, it smelled faintly of lemons. A bed had been placed against the wall on one side, and a dresser on the other. At the foot of the bed was another chest that was likely for weapons or amor.

Lissa crossed the room and opened the shutters, allowing the sunlight free rein. She twirled back around. “So, what do you think?”

Robin blinked at the room, her pack suddenly heavy on her shoulder.

_It's perfect_. And far more than she could have asked for.

“If you set your bag down, I can show you the bathing room.”

Robin set it down on top of the trunk. It looked small and out of place, not unlike how she felt. She followed Lissa, however, because in all the lemon-scentedness, she realized she smelled like the backside of a campfire.

Lissa led her a few doors down the hall to the right. The bathing room consisted of a large square sunk into the floor and hollowed out before it had been filled with water. The sides and bottom of the ‘tub’ were made of the same stone that covered the floor.

“Before Miriel, all we had was this horrible wooden bucket,” Lissa said, wrinkling her nose at the memory. “And the water was always freezing. But she set something up so the water stays clean no matter how dirty you get and it stays warm. Go ahead and see.”

Robin dipped her finger into the water and was pleasantly surprised to find the water as Lissa had promised. It also smelled faintly of lemons.

“Just a few more things, and then we'll get you your supplies. The garderobe is this door here.” Lissa pointed to a small door just off the bathing room once they stepped back into the corridor.

To Robin's surprise, they went back to her room. Lissa nudged a small basket near the door Robin hadn't noticed before with her foot.

“This is for your dirty laundry. The maids check once an evening, and they usually have everything back to you in a day or two.”

_Usually?_ Robin asked as she opened her pack. She didn't plan on going through it quite yet, but after a tour of the bathing room, she couldn't wait to wash all the soot and grime away.

Lissa hopped up on the chest beside her and swung her legs. “Well, every so often Chrom and Vaike stage one of their competitions. It takes the staff _days_ to get through it all. Especially if they drag anyone else into their craziness.”

Robin nodded absently. So far, she'd uncovered a large book with an ornate cover, a couple of pendants on silver chains, some ink bottles, a bent quill, a comb, a small knife, a few blocks of wood, and a hunk of sweet smelling soap.

“Everything all right?” Lissa craned her neck around so she could inspect the neat pile Robin had made of what appeared to be all her belongings.

She sighed. _No extra clothes._

And no sign of any coin to purchase some with.

“Is that all?” Lissa jumped off the chest. “There's places that sell clothes at market. They’re secondhand, but—”

Feeling her cheeks burn, Robin ducked her head.

_I can't._

“Why not?”

_No coins_. The words felt like an extra weight on her shoulders. If not for the book, she would have figured she'd been a peasant. A really poor peasant who squandered her money on nonessentials, like books.

“Not a problem.”

The thread of mischief in Lissa’s tone ought to have served as a warning, but she was too busy fretting to pay attention.

“Chrom said I should get you kitted up. Acquiring a second set of clothes counts. Come on!”

Before Robin had a chance to refuse, Lissa grabbed her by the wrist and took off again. As they sped through more corridors and twisting passages, Robin wondered if Lissa went anywhere at normal walking speeds.

The journey to the market place was mercifully short as it was fairly close to the castle grounds.

As before, Robin stared about herself in awe. There were so many people here. And they all seemed so happily preoccupied with whatever business they were on.

The shops in this district were as colorful as the houses. Most were built two or three stories tall, and Lissa explained that most shopkeepers lived on the upper floor with their families.

There were a few stalls scattered about, each sporting a colorful canopy that added to the cheerful chaos, but most shops were inside buildings.

“Here we are,” Lissa announced, only slightly out of breath. “Sometimes Emm and I come here for inspiration.”

Robin winced. Any shop that the exalt frequented was surely out of whatever range was allowed in kitting out new recruits. But Lissa was already pushing her through the door, reminiscing about her previous visits.

“Ah, Lady Lissa,” a small round woman with a generous smile welcomed them. A few silver strands peeked out of her dark hair. She squinted nearsightedly at them through a pair of spectacles perched on the end of her nose. “It is good to see you again. How may I be of service?”

Lissa shook her head. “Lissa’s just fine, Anya. You're supposed to treat me like any other person, but we're not here for me.”

She tugged Robin out from behind her and gestured to her like she was some sort of rare accomplishment.

“Ta da! Robin just became a Shepherd, and we’re here to get some extra clothing for her.”

Robin managed a shy wave, remembering anew how grimy she was. She pulled the edges of her coat closer. The shop was full to bursting with clothing, and she didn't want to sully anything on accident.

“Ah,” Anya said, peering at Robin. “How wonderful. Do you have any preferences, my dear?”

Robin shook her head while Lissa explained that Robin couldn't speak. Anya patted her arm while she and Lissa fell into a discussion over what constituted as necessities. Robin listened absently while she let her eyes wander.

Shelves lined the walls, all filled with folded clothing. While she couldn't make out much about the type or cut of the clothing itself, it was the fabric that drew her eye. There were so many colors and patterns. Some were intricate, others simple, but they were all beautiful to her.

As she moved closer to get a better look at some of them, she stumbled upon an area where some of the clothing had been placed on wooden forms. She noticed, in particular, a burgundy kirtle with full skirts. The bodice laced up the sides, and a vibrant orange sash had been knotted around the waist in place of a belt.

“Ah, do you like this one?”

Robin startled. Unbeknownst to her, while she'd been wandering aimlessly, Anya and Lissa had caught up with her.

She nodded, then shook her head.

_Impractical._

Especially since being a Shepherd in Ylisse meant protecting all the people instead of the sheep. She could well imagine her legs getting tangled in the skirts. Yet she couldn't completely suppress a longing look. She could almost feel the swish of the skirts . . .

“We'll take it,” Lissa announced.

Anya ducked her head in gratitude and slipped it off the form.

_Lissa_ , Robin scolded. _I lack the coin to pay for it myself, and I'm certain that isn't what your brother meant_.

Lissa waved a dismissive hand. “Just because you're a Shepherd doesn't mean you never get to have something pretty again, even if it's impractical.”

_But I—_

That stubborn look Robin was beginning to dread appeared on Lissa's face. “If you're going to be difficult, I'll just add another dress to the pile. Like that one.” She pointed to a lime green monstrosity covered in magenta bows.

Robin shook her head, putting her hands up in surrender. Then the rest of what Lissa had said caught up with her.

_Wait. What do you mean ‘pile?’_

Lissa pointed toward the counter with her staff where Anya was wrapping up the burgundy kirtle. To Robin’s horror, there were far more packages than she could carry, let alone wear.

Chrom was going to kill them both. Lissa for depleting the royal coffers on a nobody, and her for leading the young and impressionable princess astray.

_Lissa._

“Or maybe this one.” Lissa picked up a dark blue gown that had so many flounces, it was practically holding itself up. “You like polka dots, don't you?”

Robin shuddered.

“Will there be anything else?” Anya asked, her hands folded gently on top of the small mountain of purchases Robin hadn't known they were making.

Robin only got so far as ‘L’ before she stopped. There was a gleam in Lissa’s eyes she didn't trust.

“That's what I thought.”

Her fingers slowly curled into fists. Were all princesses this . . . bossy? Knowing she was likely adding some puce-colored abomination onto the royal family’s tab, Robin tried again.

_I appreciate your generosity, but I can't accept all those._

Lissa cocked her head to the side. “Why not? I know they're secondhand, but there isn't time for us to get you custom clothing made yet.”

_Lissa, it's not that_. Robin fidgeted uncomfortably. There really was no delicate way to put this. Ah well. In a battle, there was always at least one casualty. Her pride would survive this. Probably. _I need to replace the sword I lost in Southtown_. Her cheeks burned with the memory.

Lissa stared at her for a moment. “Is that all? We can stop by the armory, but we need to stop by the bookshop first.” Then to Anya, “We're good. Can you have them sent to the castle? Robin's staying in the barracks with the rest of us.”

Anya gave them a cheery smile as she curtseyed. “It would be my pleasure, milady.”

With a happy wave, Lissa ushered Robin out of the shop.

The sunlight was nearly blinding after the dim interior of the clothing shop. Robin put up a hand to shield her eyes, wondering how best to convince the princess that the crown didn't have a bottomless purse.

“So what Virion said got me thinking,” Lissa said as she pulled Robin down the street. “We really need to come up with a more effective way to communicate.”

Robin’s shoulders slumped. This was going to be expensive. She could feel it.

They walked past a cart selling freshly cut flowers, and another that sold, of all things, brooms. Both shopkeepers waved to Lissa and wished her a good day. Though she wasn't sure why, it was heartening to Robin to see how many of the regular people seemed to like Lissa. While they didn't treat her like a commoner exactly, there was a genuine friendliness in their demeanor for their princess.

_Come out here often?_ Robin asked. If she had lived here, she would have. While the crush of so many people wasn't something she particularly enjoyed, it felt safe somehow. Like home. Now she knew why the others had been so anxious to return as soon as possible.

“Uh huh.” They stopped in front of a shop whose windows were filled with every size and color of book imaginable. “Well, whenever I can get away from my other duties. It's important to Emm.”

Perhaps that was what made all the difference.

“Now come on,” Lissa said with the commanding air of someone to be obeyed, _or else._ “We need supplies.”

Supplies, it turned out, included a number of blank leather bound books, a Fire and a Thunder tome, and a few books on military tactics Robin hadn't eyed surreptitiously enough.

With no polka dotted flounces in sight, Robin had tried to put her foot down. She really didn't need more than an inexpensive Fire Tome anyway. What was she going to do with all the others?

“We're going to come up with words, that's what.” Lissa held her staff lightly in her hand like she was prepared to do battle with it. “And write them down in these,” she pointed to the blank books, “so we can keep track of them. The others can learn them too.”

Even without the use of her voice, Robin was struck speechless. The bookkeeper, who had watched their conversation with a bemused expression, assured them he would send them to the castle.

He had bowed as they left, but it wasn't until after they'd stepped out of the shop that Robin realized he'd included her in the bow. The idea sat strangely in an odd corner of her mind. But before she could figure out why, her stomach let out a grumble loud enough to be heard on the other side of the market.

Lissa slapped her forehead. “I promised you food!”

_I'm fine_ , Robin lied as her stomach twisted itself viciously.

“If we hurry, we can both get cleaned up just in time for supper.” Lissa stopped, indecision clouding her features. “Do you mind if we visit the armory tomorrow?”

_Not at all._ In fact, it had been more than she'd allowed herself to hope for.

The walk back home—home!—was quieter than the one out had been. Lissa would be stopped every now and then by someone or other, which kept her preoccupied enough that Robin could stew in her thoughts.

The longer she thought, the more trouble she realized she was in. Chrom and Lissa had taken her in, given her a place to belong. A purpose.

It didn't hurt that that purpose likely afforded her enough coin to live off.

Then there were the purchases they'd made today. The clothing, the books. But more than that, what all those empty books meant.

They wanted her to belong. To be a part of what they represented.

Her debt to them was so great that she could never hope to repay it all. That thought sank like a great weight in her gut, and it brought a whole tangle of feelings with it. Chiefly panic, a lot of gratitude, and something else. A feeling she had no name for, but it reminded her a lot of Lissa’s staff.

“So, hey,” Lissa hopped from foot to foot, “you’re not mad are you?”

Robin blinked at her in surprise. _Why would I be angry?_

“I dunno. You just got really quiet the whole way home.”

Robin almost denied that, but to her surprise, they’d stopped right outside the doors that led to the barracks.

_I'm sorry. I guess I got lost in my thoughts._

Lissa peered at her as though she could divine the truth if only she looked hard enough. “You're sure? I know I'm not the most princessy of princesses.”

She looked so downcast that Robin was seized with the irrational desire to hunt down whoever had put such thoughts into Lissa’s head and teach them a thing or two about real princesses. And staffs.

_That's not true. And even if it were, I'd much rather you be you than some prissy maid who wouldn't know the first thing about creating secret codes or how to help those who are hurt._

Lissa twisted her hands around her staff, her expression unreadable.

_Would you feel better if I curtseyed and showered you with honorifics?_

Lissa giggled. “I don't think so.”

Robin arched a brow. _Well, if you ever need to be curtseyed to, you know where to find me._

Lissa laughed again, and the last traces of her worry disappeared. “We'd better hurry if you want the bath to yourself. Once training is done, that's the first place we all go. Well, except for Sully. Her first stop is the stables.”

_Lead on!_

The allure of hot water, soap, and the chance to get out of her soot-encrusted clothing almost made their shopping expedition worth it.

“And after that, you can meet all the other Shepherds.”

Robin, who had been walking at a steady clip, slowed. She had known this was coming. It only made sense to meet all the others. Her mind replayed the tour Lissa had given her earlier. With each door she counted, the urge to run grew a little stronger. And that was just the female dormitories!

“And then we can have supper,” Lissa continued blithely on, unaware that Robin’s steps had faltered. “Hopefully it will be something good, now that we're home. I can't wait to eat real food again!”

Lissa looked at her expectantly, and her innocent enthusiasm made it impossible to worry overmuch.

Chrom thought she would make a good Shepherd, and Lissa was already doing all she could to ease the transition. Time for her to do her part.

Pasting on a smile, Robin nodded, even though the bear hadn't been that bad.

_Me too._

Satisfied, Lissa led the way back to the barrack dormitories. Robin followed behind her, bunching the fabric of her coat in both hands.

She was a Shepherd now. She had faced brigands, an enemy mage, a couple of fires, and Frederick. And lived to tell the tale. She could do this.

After all, how difficult could a round of introductions be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they're home! I figured that Lissa's personality paired with her fashion sense, well, if anyone could weaponize fashion, Lissa could. I also wanted Robin to have the first seeds of family planted. While she's going to end up with a certain blue-haired prince, that's not the family, at this point, that she's going to start to discover. The Shepherds are the best kind of family—unless you're Kellam—and it's going to be interesting to see how she takes them. Family is a concept that's almost completely alien to her, aside from her mother. So it's definitely going to be uncomfortable at first. (I cannot wait to share the chapter where all that comes to a head! It was the first scene I wrote for this story, and one of my favorite. Of course, that was before I realized Robin had lost her voice, so . . . There Will Be Edits!)
> 
> Thanks for reading/commenting/etc. I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

“How are things really, Chrom?” Emm murmured as they crossed the rest of the hall, Frederick and Phila trailing behind to give them privacy.

“The rumors aren't just rumors anymore, Emm. I saw the dastards with my own eyes.” He clamped his hand on Falchion's hilt, willing his fury to cool. Rage, no matter how justified, would only complicate matters.

Another legacy his father had left them.

Emmeryn pressed her lips together. “How many lost?”

Chrom's step faltered as he grappled with an acceptable answer. He hadn't exactly requested permission to form up and train village militias while the Shepherds made their rounds through the halidom.

“Even one life is too many. Thanks to Frederick and Robin, we minimized the loss, but fifteen paid the ultimate price.”

“We will send aid.”

Chrom bit back a reply. The aid the villages needed was training to defend themselves. Of course they needed supplies to patch themselves back together, but if they weren't equipped to defend themselves . . . The dead had no need for bandages and timber.

But now was not the time to rehash old arguments.

Emmeryn stopped just short of the doors to the lesser assembly hall. “What of the creatures?”

Chrom scowled at the memory. “I doubt the reports do them justice. These things need to be seen to understand the true horror of what they are. Dead men with no fear of pain or death to temper their aggression.”

He wanted to mention Robin's part in their victory, but held back. Frederick hadn't mentioned him and Lissa going off on their own, and the less Emm had to worry about, the better. As it was, she already had much to concern herself with.

“The heads of the houses will need to be convinced.” She spoke so quietly, it might have been a whisper. “Only then can we call a full assembly.”

“There isn't time,” Chrom said, frustration making it difficult to keep his voice in check. “Those creatures are not going to wait idly by while the houses make up their minds.”

Emmeryn gave him a tired smile. She wouldn't bend on this. She couldn't. Once she'd established the protocol for dealing with threats to the halidom, she couldn't deviate. Above nearly everything else, she wanted her people to have a voice their father had long denied them.

If only the people—particularly the heads of the noble houses—understood that what worked well in times of peace would not necessarily work in times of strife and war.

And war, despite all fervent hopes to the contrary, was coming. Chrom could feel it in his bones.

“Then you must be especially convincing.” She turned then, nodded to the footmen, and entered the lesser hall.

Shaking his head, Chrom followed, with Frederick and Phila now at his heels.

The moment he entered the room, he knew his ability to be ‘especially convincing’ wasn't going to be enough.

The twelve heads of the noble families of the halidom were already seated at the oval table that dominated the lesser hall. They had an expectant air about them that was undergirded with iron. It was the expression they wore whenever they agreed something must be done . . . by someone else.

They stood as one as he and Emm entered, bowing and curtsying in silence. Some traditions, even those that had arisen informally, were hard to break.

“Greetings all,” Emmeryn said as she glided to her seat at one end of the table. She folded her hands in her lap, every bit the serene, peaceful ruler the halidom ravaged by war had needed.

And no one was more acutely aware of that than Emmeryn herself.

Chrom took his seat off to her right, while Frederick and Phila stood behind their respective chairs. Silently, the rest followed suit.

“Your Grace,” Lord Rhys of Lymonia said, rising into a bow. “We hope the day finds you and yours well. It is good to see you have remained safe, Prince Chrom.”

Chrom returned the nod, remembering exactly why he avoided even the smallest of court gatherings. They took forever to get to the point, choosing instead to linger longer than necessary on empty pleasantries.

“Thank you, Lord Rhys,” Emmeryn said with all the dignity the court required. “My brother and sister have indeed returned safely home. For that, I am grateful. Yet it seems the dangers they faced on their journey haunt more than an empty wood.”

Chrom glanced at his sister in surprise. While she seldom complained of the court’s excesses when it came to studied politeness, she had always allowed them space to bloviate to their heart’s content.

Well, if she could prod the court, then he could exercise a little more patience.

“It would seem, Your Grace,” Lord Rhys stumbled a little at how swiftly they had gotten to the point, “that our findings are in agreement. Indeed, these creatures have been sighted in every province. While they have been bested at this time, our victories have not come without cost.”

One by one the heads around the table nodded, murmuring their agreement.

“If it pleases, Your Grace,” Lady Illonia Of Amberlyn said in that trembling voice of hers that nearly always preceded a bout of hysteria, “do we yet know exactly what these creatures are? Perhaps so that we might best them?” She dropped her gaze, cheeks pink, flustered when all the attention turned toward her.

Chrom gave her a measured look. She had always been a timid girl, prone to vapors, and came off as rather flighty. And yet here she was, despite her obvious discomfort, fulfilling her duty as best she could.

“I think my brother would be the one best to describe them,” Emmeryn said, gesturing toward him. “Chrom?”

“They are men,” he began, “or were at some point. Now they are creatures risen from the grave. They show no fear and know no pain. Only fatal strikes are capable of destroying them.”

“R-risen from the grave?” Lady Illonia gasped, the color in her cheeks draining.

Chrom regretted alarming her and the other nobles, but they couldn't hope to best a foe they didn't understand. More importantly, they would stay his hand until it was too late if they couldn't be made to see reason. And what better reason than the horror of reality?

He nodded. “For all they were human before, they have been stripped of all humanity, seeking only to destroy the living.”

“Is this true?” Lord Daerin of Theros asked, every line of him beseeching Chrom to soften the blow. At Chrom’s nod, the lines in his face deepened within his pallor. “I—we, that is to say, most of us believed the reports to have exaggerated the horror these monsters represent.”

Chrom furrowed his brow in confusion. “Why would any of the reports lie?”

Beside him, Emmeryn stirred slightly in her seat. He clamped down on everything else he had meant to say. He had forgotten how well most of the nobility took his bluntness, which was not well at all.

Lord Rhys bristled his mustache. “To make their exploits more daring and exciting, I would assume. More than one lad has allowed his mouth to follow his imagination when in the company of those he might fancy.”

Ha! Who was being blunt now?

Chrom nearly felt sorry for the man, blushing as he was, until Lord Rhys continued.

“Surely you understand?”

It took every bit of the discipline he'd built over the years in the early hours of the day sparring with Frederick to bite his tongue. Emm had spared him an afternoon of exchanging pleasantries, the least he could do was try a little harder not to offend anyone before they'd had the chance to propose workable solutions.

After that, however, all bets were off.

“I'm afraid my brother is rather occupied with facing real threats and has no time to fight those that are imaginary,” Emm murmured. “Just as all of you spend your time fulfilling your duties. I'm sure you have little time for speculation.”

“Well, no,” Lord Rhys said, abashed.

Emm nodded. “Which brings us to the task at hand. Each one of us here is sworn to protect those under our care. It is our duty and privilege to keep our people safe.”

The nobles all nodded, and Chrom watched half in wonder as their ruffled feathers had all been expertly smoothed back down by his sister’s words. Sometimes he envied her her talents.

“What about the Shepherds?” Lady Carmine of Ennys said with a hopeful look in his direction.

But Chrom was already shaking his head. “We do what we can, but we cannot be everywhere at once.”

Which was why they needed an army, even a small one. Yet it was, he feared, an idea his sister would refuse to consider until it was too late.

His father had a long shadow, and it troubled them even years after his death.

“Our guards are sufficient for now,” Lord Daerin put forth. “While this menace appears in small groups. But should they grow any larger, even our best fighters would soon be overrun.”

“Should it ever come to that, we could send the palace guards to supplement your own.”

To the nobles’ credit, none of them looked happy at such a prospect.

“You can't do that, Emm,” Chrom said, bracing himself for the argument that was to come. She didn't look it, but Emm was by far the most stubborn of them all.

Emm pursed her lips and didn't quite frown at him. “I cannot remain in safety here while my people are left unprotected.”

He sighed. “There is the safety of your guards to consider as well.”

She blinked at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

He knew what he meant very well, but how to frame the truth without reruffling their feathers?

“With respect to their duties, the guard performs admirably. But chasing down these creatures isn't something they've been trained for. Send them out without properly preparing them, and you have a very one-sided fight that will not end in our favor.”

“If it pleases Your Grace, my sisters and I would happily volunteer our services in dealing with this menace,” Phila said.

“Without your help, we'll be overcome by bandits.” Chrom couldn't help pointing out the obvious. They were fighting two enemies, not one, and the dastards would hardly be willing to politely take turns attacking the villages.

What they needed was a proper army. People who could focus solely on training and staying alive. The militias were coming along nicely, but they had to divide their time. Crops didn't take care of themselves, and food didn't magically appear on the table.

What they had was a complicated problem with no clear solutions.

At the other end of the table, Lord Ashford Of Orithia stood. Chrom stiffened reflexively, awaiting what was to come with more than a little trepidation. He and the dour-faced lord were the two most plainspoken of them all, a trait that often led to trouble—especially when the matters being debated were delicate.

“Your Grace,” he began, his voice as melancholy as the rest of him, “it seems we are divided on two fronts. Monstrous men harry our borders and men-shaped monsters plague us from within. If we are to withstand both threats, we must prioritize our foe.”

“But to do that,” Lady Aerin of Thallo said, her brow furrowed, “we must understand our enemies. The bandits, well I suppose they want revenge.” Her gaze flickered over to Emmeryn before coming to rest on Chrom. “But what do these . . . creatures want? What is their aim?”

Chrom lowered his brows. It was obvious what the creatures’ aim was. They were mindless agents of death.

Weren't they?

“Perhaps,” Emmeryn said, looking at each one of them in turn, “we would do well to heed Lord Ashford’s remarks.”

Lord Ashford looked every bit as surprised as Chrom felt. While they both contributed to the higher court, it was usually under the unspoken understanding that their merits outweighed having to deal with their more annoying aspects.

But only just.

Emmeryn beamed at Lord Ashford. “Indeed. In our quest to understand our enemy, we must first give it a name.”

“Your Grace?”

“She’s right,” Lady Illonia surprised them all by asserting herself once more. “To gain power over a thing, first you must name it.”

“Precisely what I was thinking.” Emmeryn spoke softly as if they were the only two people in the hall. “Few still read the old fairy tales. Fewer still are wise enough to learn from them.”

Lady Illonia’s cheeks were stained a bright scarlet, but she sat a little straighter, and looked a little more like she belonged there.

“P-perhaps,” she glanced at Chrom as though asking for permission, “we might call them what they are: Risen.”

Emm looked pleased. “For within a true name is found greater power for any who so possess it.”

Lady Illonia nodded happily before ducking her head.

Chrom and the rest of the high court watched the exchange with wordless astonishment. Lady Illonia’s transformation from a timid bird of a girl into something a little more sure of both herself and her place was a thing to behold. But that was part of Emm’s magic. She made everyone she spoke with feel important. Like they mattered.

And it worked because, to Emm, they did.

Thoughtfully, Chrom looked around the hall with new eyes. Perhaps, lack of a large enough fighting force notwithstanding, there was more hope to be found than he had realized.

“With the threat of these Risen . . .” He glanced at Lady Illonia, doing his best to imitate Emm, and smiled. For some reason she went a deeper shade of red. “We must come together to protect our people. I know that we can do this, which is why I move to call a full assembly immediately.”

The heads of the houses regarded him in stunned silence.

“Impossible!”

“Outrageous!”

“A full assembly needs careful planning.”

“This is highly irregular!”

“The House of Ennys needs at least a fortnight to prepare for the journey.”

Chrom acknowledged the last comment ruefully. He glanced at Emm from the corner of his eye, but she held her peace.

So. Now it was up to him to be ‘especially convincing.’

“Or as full of one as can be pulled together in two days time. Time is of the essence, and we will need the aid of every willing hand.” He held out his hand imploringly. “I know this will not be convenient, but the longer we wait, the greater the likelihood our people will suffer.”

The heads of the houses groused and grumbled amongst themselves, but in the end agreed to summon the rest of the court without delay.

“We will, however, require six days,” Lord Rhys said. And, when Chrom didn't object, he went on, “That will give the representatives from every house adequate time to arrive.”

“Provided they leave right away and ride through the night,” Lady Carmine remarked with a pointed look in his direction.

Chrom bowed his head in acknowledgment, but also to hide a grin. Urgent or not, he had started low to give him time enough to bargain with if they had decided to be stubborn about it. He hadn't expected them to defer quite so soon.

Perhaps they understood the gravity of the situation better than he'd given them credit for. Whatever the reason, it felt as though a mountain had been lifted from his shoulders.

Emm smiled at him before she called for order. There would be time enough to fret the logistics. For now, Ylisse would respond to the Risen united as one.

* * *

Despite a certain guilt she felt for how freely Lissa had parted with the crown’s gold, Robin was grateful for the mountain of packages neatly arranged on her bed.

It wasn't until she'd peeled away her clothing and had had a good scrub that she realized how grimy she had been.

The water had been that wonderful temperature that scalded away all the aches and soreness from her muscles. She had brought the soap from her pack in the hope that it might trigger a memory of some sort, but other than smelling of honey and spice and leaving her hair soft and clean, it had had no other effect.

“Robin, are you done yet?” Lissa called through the door.

Robin frowned. How on earth did Lissa expect her to answer? Hoping she'd remembered to lock the door, she grabbed the nearest package and quickly finished getting dressed.

To her delight, the package had held the red kirtle she'd admired, along with a gauzy white underdress and hose.

“Robin?”

With a silent yelp, Robin yanked her laces into place and simultaneously lunged for the door while tying the orange sash around her waist. In her haste, she barked her shin against the chest.

Throwing open the door, Robin was greeted by Lissa, who had her hand raised in a fist, and a stranger who looked as startled as Robin felt. She looked to be around Robin’s age, and was dressed in some sort of uniform that was all pink and mauve.

“Hey.” Lissa dropped her hand and giggled. “Sorry about that. I was getting caught up with Sumia, and I forgot you can't answer through the door.”

Robin nodded, her fingers twitching. Virion’s idea to come up with words, and Lissa’s idea to write them down, had been a good idea. And one she couldn't wait to get started on.

She settled for stepping back and gesturing for them to enter.

“So, there’s a lot of us, and I thought I should probably start with the nicest first. After me, of course.” Lissa gave her an angelic look before gesturing to the young woman accompanying her. “This is Sumia. Sumia, Robin.”

“Hello,” Sumia said. Her voice had a soft sweetness to it that suited her. “It’s nice to meet you, Robin.”

Robin felt stupid waving at someone a few paces away, so she opted for a curtsy. Her fingers twitched with words she had not yet figured out how to say.

“Sumia is our very own Pegasus Knight,” Lissa said as though she was sharing an important state secret.

Robin must have looked suitably impressed, because Lissa giggled and Sumia blushed and ducked her head.

“Not quite yet.” Sumia clasped her hands in front of herself. “I haven't bonded with a pegasus yet.”

Robin bit the corner of her bottom lip. The moment she had time to spare, she was going to make use of all those blank books Lissa had foisted on her. Hoping she wasn't committing a faux pas, she reached out and gently squeezed Sumia’s forearm.

When the Pegasus Knight looked at her, she pointed to her hand.

“It’s how Robin talks,” Lissa explained. “She spells the words on your palm. We have an alphabet worked out, but so far we're the only ones who know it. Oh, and Chrom.”

And Frederick. Robin tried not to think about what he might be saying in that meeting he and Chrom had gone to. Would the exalt listen to him once he had her ear, or would she continue to trust her brother?

“All right.” Sumia nodded.

Slowly, Robin traced out her question, _Will the bond happen soon?_

Sumia narrowed her eyes in concentration. Robin waited a beat, and then retraced her question.

To her dismay, Sumia’s cheerful countenance faded away, and she appeared as though she was trying very hard not to cry.

“The foaling season will be over soon,” Sumia said. “If I haven't bonded by the end of it, then it'll be another whole year before it comes around again.”

“Aww, don't be sad, Sumia.” Thankfully Lissa took the words right out of Robin’s thoughts. “There's still a few mares that haven't foaled yet. Besides, your pegasus is going to be special.”

“I don't know about that,” Sumia said. A light dusting of pink colored her cheeks, and some of the sadness went away. She shook her head and squared her shoulders. “But if it doesn't happen, I'll have a whole year of extra training under my belt.”

Lissa rolled her eyes. “Sumia might not see it, but she has a special talent when it comes to animals. Even Sully’s horse likes her, and Brazen Thunder doesn't like anybody that isn't Sully.”

Robin suppressed a shudder. While the horse hadn't done more than give her a look of disapproval that rivaled even Frederick’s, she could well believe it.

“A Pegasus Knight bonds with her pegasus shortly after its birth,” Sumia explained. “The bond they form is for life.”

Ah.

Robin sighed. Was she the sort of person who always put her foot in her mouth? While she couldn't have known her question would have lowered Sumia’s spirits, knowing that didn't make her feel any less worse.

“It'll happen, Sumia,” Lissa said. “The pegasus has to be as special as its rider, right?”

Sumia, who had been standing a little taller at the certainty in Lissa voice, deflated a little. “Oh, I don't know about that. There's nothing special about me.”

“Ha. You say that now, but I've got to introduce Robin to the others. She's gonna find out sooner or later.” Lissa poked Sumia in the side with her elbow.

To Robin’s surprise, Sumia giggled.

“Being nice isn't special.”

“Say what you like, but it's your specialty,” Lissa said with airy tones. “Robin, are you ready?”

Robin started. She glanced at the packages decorating her room and thought longingly of how nice and quiet it was.

“Don't worry,” Sumia said, smiling again. “We're not as scary as Lissa makes us sound. The others will be happy to meet you.”

Sure they would. Right up to the point she asked another awkward question.

Still, she was a Shepherd now, and if she'd learned anything over the past day or two, it was that Shepherds didn't flinch in the face of danger. They ran screaming toward it.

So would she.

Pasting on a smile, she nodded.

Lissa and Sumia led her out of the corridor and into the great room. With each step she took, her heart pounded a little faster.

She could do this. She could. She'd just stick to things like the weather or . . . or the rising cost of potatoes . . .

Robin buried her face in her hand. Why was this so hard? Surely she had to have come in contact with people before she lost her memories. Somewhere deep inside she had to know how to talk to people, right?

“And this,” Lissa sang as she raised her arms and twirled over to a small knot of people, “is the garrison. Make yourself at home.”

Robin smiled a greeting at the group, glad she knew about half of the people in the room already. The other two—a burly man with a shock of yellow hair and a blonde girl Lissa’s age—turned their attention toward Lissa.

“Lissa, my treasure,” the girl with blonde ringlets said. Her voice had a distinct quality to it, something that sounded a lot like the exalt’s and Chrom's, only a little more refined. “When did you arrive? I've been on pins and needles worrying over you!”

“Oh, hey, Maribelle,” Lissa said, grinning. Then she gestured. “Maribelle, Robin. Robin—”

“Hey? That's all you have to say?” Maribelle demanded, clutching a pink parasol that perfectly matched her outfit, frills and all. “I've sprouted fourteen gray hairs fretting over you!” She punctuated the last bit by tapping the ground with the tip of her umbrella.

Robin couldn't help noticing how sharp a point the parasol came to.

Lissa waved a dismissive hand. “Aww, you worry too much. I can handle a battle or two. Although I could do without all the bugs and bear barbecue.” She wrinkled her nose at the memory.

“Hey squirt,” the man said. Robin tried not to stare. The man’s muscles had muscles. “Where’s Chrom? I bet he had a hard time out there without ol’ Teach and his trusty ax to back him up.”

Lissa gave him a long look before bursting into laughter. “So you're Teach now, Vaike? When did that happen?”

“Oh, I've always been the Teach,” Vaike said, striking a noble pose. “It’s just that I finally decided to embrace my inner Teach on the outside. Yeah.”

Robin eyed him. His confidence seemed to be directly at odds with his intellect. From the expression on Lissa’s face, she had come to the same conclusion.

“And here I thought you'd been born lacking wits. Who knew it could be taught?”

Sumia stiffened, her eyes wide. Her posture reminded Robin of a small animal that had scented danger and couldn't decide if it was safer to freeze or scamper away.

“Ha! Never doubt the Vaike.” He smirked at them for a moment before he narrowed his eyes. “Wait, was that an insult?”

Lissa gaped at Vaike before rolling her eyes. “You honestly can't tell—”

Scenting danger, Sumia blurted out, “Beg pardon, but when do you think we'll get to see the captain?” Her cheeks colored and she had that look about her that if she could have, she never would have said any of that out loud. But it was too late now, and the damage had already been done.

“Poor Sumia has been beside herself with concern all day,” Maribelle said, twirling her parasol where the point rested against the ground. “Her eyes were scanning the horizon all day. She might have earned fewer bruises during training had she been blindfolded.”

“Of course I worried,” Sumia said, her face glowing brighter with every word she spoke. “He’s our captain and our prince.”

Robin was so busy trying to sort through the tangle of emotions painting Sumia’s cheeks that she almost missed the very pointed look Maribelle was giving Lissa.

Lissa either missed it or didn't care. “Aww, that’s sweet of you to worry about my brother like that. But this is Chrom we're talking about. Any problem he encounters, he just keeps hitting it until it stops moving.”

This startled a silent laugh from Robin. She must have seen similar sibling banter from before, because there was something reassuringly familiar about it. Although the familiarity brought with it an intense longing that made her wonder if that sort of thing was something she had only ever watched and never partaken in.

“Hey Lissa.” Vaike had apparently noticed her now. “Who’s the stranger?”

“Nobody’s stranger than you, Vaike,” Lissa said in a sing-song voice, twirling again for good measure. “This is Robin, newest Shepherd reporting for duty.”

Robin smiled weakly at Lissa’s introduction, and tried to look friendly and worthy of being a Shepherd. Vaike eyed her with open curiosity while Maribelle scrutinized her like Robin was an exotic bug pinned to a card, and she wasn't sure if she liked the color of her carapace.

“So, Robin, huh? What do you do?” Vaike asked. He squinted at her as if by looking hard enough he might discover a hidden cache muscles or weapons that had previously gone unnoticed.

What did she do? Besides losing a perfectly good sword and nearly incinerating herself with her own magic? She shot a panicked look in Lissa’s direction.

“She, um, Chrom will probably announce it sometime soon.”

Robin wasn't certain what the furtive little look Lissa gave her meant, but she was familiar enough with the feeling it invoked to know it was probably a harbinger of trouble.

“Oh,” Vaike drawled. “So it’s a secret then? What are you, some kind of spy? Or maybe an assassin?”

“Don't be silly, Vaike,” Maribelle said, tossing a perfect gold ringlet over her shoulder. “As though we would stoop to employing criminals of that sort. Why, we might as well hire a thief or two if we've decided to work alongside that sort of element!”

“Well, so which is it?” Vaike crossed his arms, waiting.

“Be nice, Vaike. Robin can't talk,” Sumia jumped in before Robin could ask one of them to please explain her situation again.

“Really?” Vaike leaned forward. “Like someone cut off her tongue or—”

“Don't be vulgar,” Maribelle sniffed, lightly thwacking Vaike with her parasol. She turned to Lissa. “Where did you find her?”

Robin bit her lip. She hated being talked around when she was standing right there, even though she couldn't very well answer their questions herself. While she didn't like being scrutinized, she enjoyed being effectively invisible even less.

“In a field just outside of Southtown.”

Maribelle blinked at Lissa before favoring Robin with an incredulous stare. “Lissa, my treasure, there is a time and place for japes—”

“No, really. Chrom, Frederick, and I—”

“Captain,” Sumia exclaimed, standing at attention. “I—we're so glad you’ve returned safely.”

“As am I,” Chrom said coming up from behind them. “It's good to be home.”

“Hey, word on the street is you ran into some trouble,” Vaike said nonchalantly. “Never would have happened if you'd brought ol’ Teach along.”

“Teach, is it?” Chrom looked amused before craning his neck to peer around the group. “Where is everyone? I've yet to meet a Shepherd who'd risk being late for supper.”

Lissa rocked on her heels. “Just waiting for you, big brother.”

“Yeah, so now you're here, let's go get some grub.” Vaike patted his stomach. “I'm so hungry I could eat a—”

“Don't say it!” Lissa shook her finger at Vaike before grabbing Chrom by the arm and hustling him into a corridor off the great room.

Suddenly feeling cast adrift, Robin followed behind the group. Observing as she tried to settle into place. Everything was still so new, it was all odd corners and unexpected angles. Even so, there was something about this place, something about the Shepherds themselves, that made her want to stay.

And that feeling sat heavy in her chest. Right next to that gaping emptiness whose only solid anchor was her name.

“Oof. Sorry about that, Robin,” Sumia said as Robin jumped forward to help her when she fell.

Sumia, who had been perfectly normal prior to Chrom’s arrival, had tripped no less than three times.

Before they'd even left the great room.

“I don't know what's wrong with me,” Sumia muttered, brushing her tunic off.

Robin crooked her mouth to the side as she studied Sumia. The clumsiness, paired with the fact that Sumia had been blushing nonstop ever since Chrom had shown up, and seemed flustered when she spoke around him, led to an interesting train of thought.

She cut her gaze in Chrom’s direction, but he was busy laughing at something Vaike had said. Did he know? Was she imagining things?

“I hope you'll like it here.” Sumia smiled at her, and then straightened her shoulders and continued walking.

Robin returned the smile. Somewhere in that bottomless chasm in her heart, a tiny light sparked into being—right beside her name. It was tiny, but golden, and looked exactly like the glimmer of hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a reason Chrom leaves the diplomacy and state craft to Emm. Emm is also very sneaky at training her heir without him realizing what she's doing. Robin is starting to settle into her new home and her place in it. She still feels a little out of place and very unsure of herself. And while the seed hasn't really sprouted yet, it has been planted. Which is good. Because the next chapter is going to be a trifle . . . rough . . . for her.
> 
> FRACTURED is mirrored from FF.net. The most current version is there, although I’m hoping to be caught up here by the next update (June 8).


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

_Robin stood alone in a forest filled with dark trees. Somewhere not too far off, she could hear the sound of running water._

_Sunlight made its way through a canopy that cut it into strange leafy shapes and tinted it with green. The air smelled of moss and rich earth._

_She stood, frozen. Heart hammering in her chest. Fear coated her tongue with a bitter tang. And all about her was a great pressure. As if an invisible force were trying to crumple the world into a tight ball. Crushing everyone and everything within it._

__

__

_And then it spoke her name on the breath of a brittle wind_.

_“Robin.”_

_Fear clenched her heart. Squeezed her lungs. Time slowed, and in that moment, she watched a lifetime go past._

“Robin. Hey, Robin!”

Something latched onto her shoulder.

With a silent cry, she twisted around, her arms out to fend off the attack. As she moved, her legs got caught on something.

And she was falling.

Robin landed on hard, smooth stone. She gasped for breath, but her movements were restricted by something she couldn't quite make out.

“Are you okay, Robin?” Lissa bent next to her, peering at her with concern. She held her staff at the ready, but the green gem remained dull.

Robin nodded. She pushed herself up while Lissa helped her untangle herself from her blankets.

When she stood, her hands were shaking. She hugged herself as the nightmare faded, leaving behind only the faceless terror.

“You sure?” Lissa leaned close, checking for any sign of a concussion.

Robin nodded again. Then, to prove her point, she dropped her arms lightly to her sides and straightened the ribbons of her sleeping shift.

“Well, if you weren't awake before, you should be now.” Lissa stepped back, satisfied that the only thing that had been injured that morning was Robin’s pride.

It was then that Robin realized the light coming in from the open window was a soft pearly gray. She leaned against the windowsill, willing her heart to slow.

The sun wasn't even up yet, though from the faint blushing at the horizon, it wouldn't be long until it rose.

Did the Shepherds always rise this early, she wondered with a tinge of horror.

She turned to Lissa who was busy sorting through the pile of clothes she'd arranged, but had fallen asleep before she'd put them away.

Lissa held up a simple blue kirtle that laced at the sides. “Sorry. Chrom said something about a meeting and asked if I'd help you get ready for it.”

Robin frowned.

_Meeting? This early?_ Her fingers were stiff, but managed to convey the unspoken idea that people had no business rising before the sun. Sane people. Which some people clearly weren't.

“Not a morning person, huh?” Lissa laughed and handed her her clothing. “By Frederick’s account, you slept in.”

While Robin struggled to comprehend a thought process so foreign as to hardly be human, Lissa jerked her thumb toward the door.

“I'll wait outside for you.”

Sighing, Robin gave her mattress a final look of longing before she got dressed. It took a few minutes to work the knots out of her hair, but the comb fit her hand with a familiarity that soothed her, even if she had no memory of it prior to the day before.

To her delight, her coat had been laid neatly across the chest at the foot of her bed, brushed and mended, and only faintly smelling of fire.

She slipped into her boots as she put it on, pausing before she went to meet Lissa. The weight of the coat was reassuring on its own, but she needed a little more to anchor herself.

Fortunately her coat had many pockets.

Only after she’d collected an ink bottle, the knife, one block of wood, a slightly bent quill, and a blank leather bound book, did she feel confident enough to start the day.

“Ready?” Lissa asked after she'd opened the door.

When Robin nodded, she was telling only the smallest of fibs.

“Good.” Lissa started off. “We'd better hurry though. I got, uh, a little distracted on the way over. Cookie was baking her special cinnamon bread twists—I can't wait for you to try them. They're delicious!”

Robin nodded. Food sounded like a very good idea. Hopefully this meeting of Chrom's either came with breakfast or was short enough for it not to make a difference.

As they walked through a maze of corridors, Lissa would periodically wave to and greet everyone that crossed their path, servant and distinguished visitors alike. Until, at last, they stopped in front of two great doors inlaid with silver.

“Well, here we are. Don't worry. Most of them are more bark than bite.” With a cheerful wave to both Robin and the footmen, Lissa went on her way.

Robin faced the doors with trepidation. Who, exactly, was more bark than bite? And what was this meeting for anyway? She'd sort of quietly assumed it had something to do with the Shepherds, but Chrom wasn't just a captain. He was a prince as well.

While her stomach twisted itself into knots, her hands went cold and clammy. The footman watched her impassively until she squared her shoulders and hid her hands in her sleeves.

With a move that worked as both a nod and a bow, the footman opened one of the doors. Obeying the unspoken command, Robin walked through the doorway.

And would have turned on her heel and walked back out if the doorman hadn't closed the door behind her.

The room was lovely, if sparsely furnished. Dark green drapes hung from ceiling to floor along the windows lining the opposite wall, open wide enough to allow the pale gleam of early sunlight to pass through.

But it was the large oval table in the center of the room that drew her eye. Mostly because it was filled with people in fancy and expensive looking clothing who were watching her with pursed lips. And if that wasn't enough, every chair had at least one or two people standing behind them.

“Robin,” Chrom stood and greeted her, gesturing to the lone empty chair next to him.

Her feet seemed to have forgotten how to walk, while at the same time her mind stuttered to a halt. What was she doing here? She didn't belong here. What had Chrom been thinking?

In the end, it was Frederick—stationed behind Chrom—who got her moving. He didn't move or say anything. He just _looked_ at her.

She slipped into the seat, very much aware that all eyes, including those stationed behind most of the chairs, were on her.

“This is her?” A lady with long, dark hair swept up into an elaborate coiffure gave her a calculating look.

“Yes.” Chrom gave Robin a reassuring smile, but she was too busy imagining all the ways she would be found wanting to properly attend.

She jumped when Chrom slid a piece of vellum over to her. He placed an inkwell next to the vellum, but she produced her own quill before he had a chance to offer her one.

“We just need you to write about what happened with the Risen.” Chrom seated himself and shuffled through a stack of parchments in front of him.

She raised a brow.

“The name for the foul creatures we battled in the forest,” Frederick murmured.

“We are seeking to find a way to protect our people from this new threat,” the Exalt said. Her eyes were every bit as kind as Chrom's, but they had a serenity his lacked. “As we gather the intelligence for the full assembly, we want to make certain we have as many details as possible.”

Robin nodded, thankful that no one expected her to speak.

As she uncapped the ink, Chrom leaned close enough to murmur something about vivid imaginations, grisly deaths, and to stop it already.

Taking a deep breath, she focused all of her attention on the vellum before her. She could still see the battles they'd waged in her mind’s eye. What they'd asked of her wasn't difficult by any means, but as she dipped her quill, she wondered why it was so important that she do it here, in this room. Did they think she would lie? Or were they worried the information might get out before they wanted it to?

“All messengers have been dispatched,” a lord with hair graying at his temples said.

“Thank you, Lord Rhys.” The Exalt’s sweet voice helped ease some of the tension in the room. “I know these are difficult times, but now, more than ever, duty requires we do all in our power to protect our people.”

Robin bit her lip as she scratched out every detail she recalled. Soon the voices of the various lords and ladies became a pleasant background noise to offset the grim reminder of all that had transpired before.

Once she had outlined everything she remembered, she sketched out a bird’s eye map of the fortress. Mapping out everyone's positions, she drew arrows to show movement and engagement patterns. Robin's cheeks burned as she purposely left the back of the fortress unguarded, just as she had at the time.

As the visual account of the battle formed, every mistake, every misstep she'd taken, became glaringly obvious.

What would she have done if Sully and Virion hadn't met up with them in time?

“If I may?” Frederick held out his hand.

Robin blew on the last bit of ink to dry it before she handed her papers over to him.

Frederick stared at them while she flexed her sore hand. His brow furrowed for a moment before he turned them over to face the wrong side up. His face cleared, and he gave her an inscrutable look before devoting his attention to her account.

Robin shifted uncomfortably. Now that she'd finished her task, did that mean she could go? Writing things down had woken her mind sufficiently that she no longer felt mostly dead. A good breakfast was the only thing left to cement the deal.

She looked to Chrom for permission to leave. He tilted his head to the side and raised a shoulder in half a shrug.

Doing her best to be discreet, she signed, _May I go now?_

He smiled at her, but shook his head. Before she had a chance to ask why, Frederick handed her papers off to Chrom.

He gave Frederick an odd look, and turned the papers right side up. Then his eyes widened, and he flipped them back.

Robin slumped down in her chair. She'd made a mistake somewhere, she had to have. Had she not written clearly enough? And why was Chrom giving Frederick a victorious look?

Frederick's lips tightened into a single line, but he nodded stiffly.

Hmm. Frederick wasn't happy, so that must mean they'd decided not to throw her out of the Shepherds before she'd even really started. So why had they looked at her like she'd sprouted a second head?

“Have you found something of note?” the Exalt asked, gently reminding them that they weren't the only ones in the room.

“A few details I hadn't thought to mention.” Chrom passed the papers to the Exalt except for the map.

Robin waited for the Exalt to comment on whatever it was she'd done wrong, but she simply read what had been written without shuffling the papers about.

Once she had finished, the Exalt placed the papers down on the table and gave Robin a kind smile. “Thank you, Robin. If you would like some breakfast, I'm sure—”

Finally, Robin thought. This was the dismissal she'd been waiting for. She could almost taste those cinnamon twists Lissa had told her about.

Chrom cleared his throat.

“Chrom?” The Exalt clasped her hands on top of the table.

“Sorry, Emm, but now that I have a tactician, she should stay to be apprised of the situation.”

Robin frowned. What did his tactician have to do with keeping her here?

“Ah.”

“What's this about a tactician?” A lord dressed in green stood, leaning on the table.

To Robin’s utter astonishment, Chrom gestured to her. “Robin will serve as my tactician for the Shepherds.”

The uproar his simple declaration caused was immediate. It was, however, drowned out by Robin’s own surprise.

What had Chrom been thinking? Had he lost his wits completely? Or had he taken a sharp blow to the head that Lissa had somehow missed?

“Now is not the time for japes,” the same lord from before insisted. “The Shepherds are our first line of defense. How could she possibly lead them?”

Exactly! Robin gave Chrom a pointed look, silently urging him to listen to reason.

“Lord Daerin has a point,” a girl near her own age said in something only just louder than a whisper.

Another lord, this one in red, stood. “Precisely. A tactician must be able to relay orders, and not just plan them out. Things can change rapidly on a battlefield, and your tactician must be able to issue new orders quickly.”

Robin squeezed her hands into fists, but held them under the table. Even though they were only giving voice to all the objections lining up between her lips, their words stung.

“And I have full faith in Robin’s ability to do so,” Chrom said firmly. He was no longer smiling.

“The Shepherds are, as you say Lord Daerin, our first line of defense. A position they've earned on their own merit.” The Exalt spoke as gently as she always had, but there was a slight edge to her words that was felt rather than heard. She waited as most of those assembled nodded somewhat grudgingly. “You have long trusted my brother to keep the halidom safe, have you not?”

“Yes.”

Frederick stepped forward. “I admit I have reservations of my own,” he said. “But even so, I cannot fail to see Robin’s capabilities both on and off the field.” He gestured to the map in front of Chrom.

The lord’s jaw tightened, and a vein bulged near his temple. “You are asking us to also put our faith in a stranger. A nobody we have no way of properly judging. That is not the same thing as trusting Prince Chrom.”

“She isn't a nobody.”

“Ah, then she is an experienced tactician. Why did you not say so at the start?”

“Please,” Lady Illonia said, her gaze darting bird-like between Lord Daerin and Chrom. “Perhaps if we had more information. What battles she has led and where she received her training.”

All reasonable questions.

“I'm afraid we don't have access to that information.” Chrom’s scowl deepened as the room erupted into a chaos of voices. Some demanded explanations, others expressed shock, horror, outrage. Chrom, for his part, looked taken aback by the sudden storm he'd set off.

With every pointed comment, every withering look, the pressure pounding down on Robin increased. Despite the crushing weight, she kept her spine stiff and her gaze straight ahead. Some part of her sensed that if she cried or showed any weakness, not even Chrom could prevent her being ejected unceremoniously from the castle, if not Ylisse itself.

Chrom raised his hand for silence. “Lack of knowledge does not mean that such knowledge or training doesn't exist. We are hopeful that Robin’s amnesia isn't permanent—”

“Amnesia?”

“Not only can she not talk, but she has no memories at all?”

Murmurs of “Not fit to lead!” and “This is madness!” rose in a steady crescendo.

“Assuming this is all truth, Your Grace.” A dour man who looked as though he'd been on his way to a pay his respects to the recently departed stood. “You are asking we put our faith—and the welfare of those entrusted to our care—in the hands of one who is as of yet unproven among our ranks.”

“Where did you find her?” a lady with dark hair and a blue gown asked. The lady arched a perfectly manicured brow. “Unless you found her by the side of the road, that may give us some information to work with.”

Robin blinked quickly as her fingernails carved half moons into her palm. The lords and ladies had made it all too clear how absurd it had been for Chrom to place his faith in her. What a fool she had been to even imagine that she could belong here.

“We found Robin just outside of Southtown,” Frederick spoke up unexpectedly, and Robin braced herself for when he confirmed the fear that had spoken in jest. To her surprise, he said nothing further.

The lord in red narrowed his eyes. “Where outside of Southtown?”

“A league or so away.” Chrom did not look happy, but his gaze never wavered.

The lord blinked and gave a humorless laugh. “Surely you do not mean to place a guttersnipe you found on the wayside in one of the most powerful and influential posts this court has to offer.”

The Exalt placed a restraining hand on Chrom’s arm when he slammed his hands down on the table. “We would be remiss to so quickly rescind that trust we have placed in Chrom and the decisions he's made. Perhaps a short break and some refreshments are in order.”

The moment the Exalt gave her dismissal, Robin was on her feet and through the door. She forced herself to walk until the corridor led to a corner. Once she'd turned with it, she ran.

Some distant part of her recognized the startled faces of servants as she sprinted past them. Another part heard her name shouted from behind. But everything else narrowed down to a single focus: escape.

Robin soon lost track of how many times she rounded a corner and fled down a new corridor. The condemnation the lords and ladies had voiced beat against her heart with every step she took. She didn't stop running until she burst through a half hidden door and found herself free from the confines of the castle.

Hugging herself against the bewildering array of emotions storming inside her, she followed a small path that branched into another.

Why had their words hurt so much? They were no different from many of her own thoughts.

She was a nobody, so far as she knew. What business did _she_ have serving as a tactician for the Shepherds?

None!

That one word cut deeper than all the rest. She had been a fool to think she belonged here. That she could possibly have been one of _them._

But if she didn't belong here, then where did she belong?

The thought stopped her cold in her tracks.

Robin finally looked around before stumbling over to a fancifully carved wooden bench.

She'd landed in a garden of sorts, although it mostly consisted of living green walls of hedgerows that created a cozy, isolated area. There would be no fancy nobles here, demanding a pedigree she couldn't give. A small pond in the corner glinted with sunlight, and a few potted plants lightly perfumed the air.

The feeling of unfettered peace in the garden soothed some of the knots in her stomach. She leaned against the bench and tipped her head back to stare at the sky. Why had everything gone so wrong?

Her fingers burrowed into the pockets of her coat, surfacing with a block of wood and the little knife from her pack. The shapes felt comfortable in her hands. Familiar, even. So she allowed her hands to have free rein while she grappled the storm. The sound of metal scraping across wood was almost a lullaby to her ears.

Truth shouldn't have the power to wound her as it had. The nobles had valid concerns. Concerns she had shared. Was she such a weak little thing that cracked and broke beneath the slightest touch of criticism? A tactician held the life of his troops in his hands. Her hands were simply too small for the task.

So why did it feel as though that pit of emptiness had widened until it was big enough to swallow her whole?

“Sometimes my brother’s good sense outpaces his ability to express it properly.”

Robin started, dropping the wooden block, as the Exalt seated herself on the bench opposite her.

She surged to her feet, face burning, head bowed with mortification.

“Such formalities are not necessary here.” The Exalt smiled at her as though the events of the morning hadn't happened and they had simply met by happy circumstance. She bent forward and picked up the lump of wood Robin had been sawing her frustrations upon. “This is lovely. My brother failed to mention your talent with carving.”

Robin ducked her head. She hadn't been paying attention to what she'd been doing, so whatever she had been carving was likely an abomination. Just like herself.

“If you don't mind my asking, what sort of bird is it?” The Exalt turned the roughly hewn carving in her hand.

Robin shook her head. She hadn't had time to cut in the details and smooth away the irregularities made by uneven strokes. The thing was only barely bird-shaped, and even that was a generous assessment.

The Exalt continued to study the carving as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. “I am afraid I must apologize on behalf of the heads of the noble houses of Ylisse. Fear can sometimes rob a person of their trust and security right when they need it the most.”

Robin curled the fingers of her free hand into her palm, remembering.

“And it doesn't help matters any when my brother forges a sure path through uncharted lands, certain of the vision of which he hasn't adequately laid out the groundwork.” The Exalt paused until she caught Robin’s eye. “But that's only part of the problem, isn't it?”

Robin's reply forged a fiery path up the back of her throat, the words coating her tongue with lightning. But no matter how many words she choked on, they would never fly free, never be heard.

“It is a hard thing to think without the release of speaking the words aloud, even if only to yourself.” A depth of understanding softened the Exalt’s expression, and for a moment, Robin saw her as the person she was without the title or crown. “I think perhaps these may be of some use.”

Shyly, Robin took the vellum and stylus the Exalt held out. She stared at the blank page, uncertain of where she should begin.

“Chrom says you fight bravely. That even in all the chaos surrounding you, you kept your head.”

Robin frowned and her fingers twitched. Did she give life to her words or the kind of words the Exalt might wish to hear?

As if following her thoughts, the Exalt gestured to the blank page. “Please, I would like to hear it in your own words.”

Robin crooked her mouth to the side. She'd already made a fool of herself by running away. There wasn't much worse she could do. She tucked the knife away. Pulling the bottle of ink from her pocket, she dipped the stylus in and used the blank book to write upon.

_Chrom knows less than he thinks._ She nearly crossed the words out, but the Exalt had slipped in next to her and was reading over her shoulder. _I was terrified, and while it might have looked like I was brave and kept my head, I was just lucky._

“Do you really believe that?”

Robin thought back to that desperate moment when she threw her sword in the brigand’s general direction. Then to the missing back palisade at the fort. _I know it. Chrom sees merit when it was luck that carried the day._ Then, remembering who she was addressing, she hurriedly added a belated, _Your Grace_.

“Please, you may call me Emmeryn.” She leaned closer as if sharing a secret. “It is nice to hear my own name sometimes. Hearing it reminds me that beneath the crown, I am simply myself.”

The Exalt—Emmeryn—turned her attention back to what Robin had written.

“From all accounts, if luck _was_ the deciding factor, you were exceedingly lucky.”

Robin frowned and nodded. The empty part of her went a little more hollow. As if, by telling the truth, she had betrayed a part of herself somehow.

“Is it so bad to be lucky?” Emmeryn’s tone was too innocent to be a simple question.

Having traveled with Emmeryn’s siblings, Robin had learned enough to know where this was headed.

_What Chrom asks is impossible. Luck is good until it's gone. No one is lucky every time. Once a tactician’s luck runs out, people die._

“Ah.”

Robin furrowed her brow in confusion.

“You are afraid of losing someone.”

The words struck her heart with such force that she couldn't breathe. Time slowed until it seemed frozen. And in the spaces between the then, the now, and the yet to be, Robin thought she saw the shadow of a silver-haired woman with green eyes and a sad smile.

“Chrom may seem naively optimistic,” Emmeryn said, seeming to choose her words with care. “But his instincts are sound. I could not afford to trust him otherwise, no matter how much my heart might wish to.”

Robin’s eyes widened as Emmeryn gestured to the crown that framed the back of her head like a halo. And here she'd been worried about what amounted to a handful of lives compared to those an Exalt was duty bound to protect.

“I do not ask you to go against the dictates of your own heart. I ask only that you consider what choice you would make if, perchance, my brother’s perceptions are correct. That, if so, you might trust in him as he trusts in you.”

_Trust Chrom._

The words, so softly spoken, sounded loudest of all.

Emmeryn plucked the stylus from her fingers. She placed something in Robin’s hands and wrapped her suddenly nerveless fingers around it.

“We are all very much like this bird of yours. Rough and unfinished in the moment, but every line bursting with potential.”

“Emm. Emm, are you—” Chrom stopped short as he came into view. Or, rather, when they did.

Robin couldn't seem to remember how to breathe, let alone move. She could only watch, helpless, as Emmeryn gathered her skirts and stood.

“I am afraid I have some unfinished business with the court. If you will excuse me . . .”

Before either of them could collect themselves well enough to protest, Emmeryn had gone.

Chrom rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find the words, any words, that might salvage the situation. “I'm sorry.” He cleared his throat, wincing. “It was brought to my attention rather . . . firmly . . . that I made a mess of things.”

Robin crossed her arms, not yet certain whether she was ready to forgive him quite yet.

“I ought to have asked you before announcing it to the most powerful people in the kingdom. For that, I'm sorry.”

Now it was Robin's turn to grimace. She had known everyone seated at that table was important, but she hadn't connected that with Emmeryn’s words well enough to understand how important. Until now.

Lovely. Just . . . lovely.

“Why do I get the feeling that my apology only made things worse?” Chrom sat on the edge of the bench farthest from her.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Giving her carving one last look, Robin tucked it away. Now, to deal with one bafflingly stubborn prince and then maybe, just maybe, she could beg some food from that Cookie of Lissa’s.

“Robin?”

Her fingers were moving before she'd finished her thought. _You heard what they said._

Chrom’s jaw tightened. “They'll come around. They weren't there. They didn't see what Frederick, Lissa, and I saw.”

_They spoke the truth_. Those words were burning embers to her heart.

His scowl vanished. “Is that really what you think? That you're a nothing? A nobody?”

Robin sighed, and her shoulders slumped. _I don't know who I am, nor do you. In their place, I would have raised the same objections._

“You're wrong.” Chrom spoke with an intensity that surprised her. “And so are they. With time, they will see. It is my hope that you will as well.”

_What makes you so certain?_ Her melancholy was starting to give way to temper. Why couldn't he just listen to reason and let her be?

He stared at her for a moment, a look of indecision crossing his face before his expression settled into pinched brows and a frown. “This is something you're going to have to trust me on.”

Robin gaped at him. How could he have . . .

Sensing he had somehow gained an advantage, Chrom pressed forward. “Trust is integral to the Shepherds. You haven't been one long enough to see it in action, but that trust is what enables us to do what we do. It's what keeps us alive on the field.”

_And if . . ._ Robin’s mouth went dry. The echo Emmeryn’s observation had stirred wasn't something she was ready to face yet. Besides, the moment she lost her memory was the point in time she lost everyone she had ever known.

_If I fail, what of all that trust then?_

Chrom’s brow furrowed. “If you fail, you just get back up and try again. The Shepherds are always there to lend a hand.”

Robin ducked her head. Everything he'd said about the Shepherds sounded almost too good to be true. But the specter of the missing back palisade wasn't so easy to dismiss. Nor words of truth barbed with thorns.

Chrom . . .

_You're placing all their lives in my hands. What if I make a mistake? What if someone—_

“Dies?” The bleak look in his eyes told her he wasn't drawing on hypotheticals.

She nodded, hating a part of herself for dredging up old pain.

“Robin, every time we set foot onto the battlefield, we do it with the knowledge that this might be the day when we slip or miss or fall. We couldn't be effective if we didn't believe we were going to come home after. Yet every soldier must also accept that this might be their last battle. There is madness in war, and we all carry on as best we can. Together.”

She searched his face for even the slightest hint of deception, for even the smallest sign that his ideals and his reality diverged. But all she saw was open honesty. When it came to Chrom, she suspected that what you saw was what you got.

He laughed softly. “That you even have these reservations is proof enough that I made the right call.”

_You could always be wrong, you know._

“It’s possible,” he said, laughter edging his tone. The smile he gave her was a playful one. “While I don't want you to prove me wrong, the only way you'll get to say ‘I told you so’ is if you accept your commission to serve as the tactician to the Shepherds.”

Robin dropped her gaze to where her hands were worrying the edge of her coat. She could say no and walk away, only having lost what might be in some distant future. Or she could say yes. Yes to that faraway voice in her mind urging her to put all her trust and faith in a man who was a perfect stranger. Yes to an uncertain future and all the joys and sorrows that entailed.

Yes to embracing, not shunning, all her deepest fears.

_You must promise me one thing._

“Name it, and it's yours.” Chrom’s relief was nearly palpable.

Robin arched a brow in surprise. _You ought to be more careful in giving open-ended promises. What if I had asked for the halidom?_

“But you aren't.”

_I could have._

“You didn't though.”

She frowned at him. _Chrom . . ._

He caught her hands in his. “You're missing the point, Robin. I trust in your discretion to never ask for something you shouldn't.”

It was incredible the way Chrom could trust so freely. No reservations. Just simple faith.

Of course, that same trust could be the end of him one day. And likely it would be.

“I’ve seen that look too often,” he said, releasing her hands and leaning back against the bench. He idly picked up a loose piece of vellum that had fallen against the flagstones. “I am who I am, Robin. I can't change that, and I wouldn't want to.”

_If I ever . . . If I ever give you cause to lose faith in me or my ability to keep all of you safe, you must cut me loose._

He flipped the page over. “Not going to happen.”

_Chrom._

He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “You are who you are, Robin. And that person is someone I have faith in.”

_But if—_

He shifted impatiently. “How about this—if ever you lead us all to a terrible, grisly end, you shall be relieved of your duties as tactician forthwith.”

_I'm serious, Chrom._

He folded the vellum and tucked it away into a pouch on his belt before crossing his arms. “That's the best offer you're going to get, so I'd advise you to take it.”

Her refusal was on the tip of her tongue, and she would have set it free but for one thing. If there was something she had learned today, it was how many people trusted Chrom to a bewildering degree. Now that she was away from the whispers and glares, she could see that there had been hurt beneath the court’s incredulity. Even then, it hadn't been him they'd rejected, but her.

“My word is final when it comes to the Shepherds, so you needn't fear on that count. The court has no say as we are not technically the Ylissian army.”

Robin highly doubted the court would have nothing to say about the matter. Which meant, she realized, that she was not only going to have to prove herself to the other Shepherds, but to the court as well. She could not allow that trust to be broken on her account.

_You trust me despite everything?_

“I do.”

_I—fine. But remember, you promised._ And this was the sort of promise she'd remind him of, daily if necessary. She'd even enlist Frederick’s assistance if that's what it took to save Chrom from his own good intentions.

“Right. Now that that's settled, what are your plans?”

Robin frowned, thinking. If she was going to assume the duty of keeping everyone alive, then she had a lot to do. She needed to—

Chrom tapped her on the shoulder, reminding her he was still there. Robin sighed. Her fingers would fall off before she'd finish spelling everything out. Lifting the bottle of ink, she opened her book to the first page and drew her quill out of her pocket. Shifting so he could see, she began her list.

_—assess each Shepherd—fighting abilities, strengths, weaknesses, favored weapon, any other useful skills and trades_

__

__

—catalogue all available resources—food, weapons, equipment

—study maps of topography of surrounding areas most likely to see an incursion of foreign troops

—study Ylissian history, culture, geography

_—study past and present military strategies of Ylisse and all surrounding countries_

Robin paused, suddenly self-conscious. The next few were of a more personal nature, and she didn't like how vulnerable she felt by not only committing them to ink, but allowing anyone else to see them. Especially when that someone else was her superior.

“That's . . . quite a list.”

Well, she had warned him. And how could she expect the others to allow her to do what she was afraid of doing for herself? Lips pressed together, she forced herself to go on.

_—purchase a new sword and learn how to use it_

__

__

—research magic, magical recoil, possible causes and potential solutions

_—create a language using hand motions for words rather than just letters; brainstorm communication methods that may be used quickly and effectively on the battlefield_

Robin glanced up then. Chrom’s eyes were narrowed and a line had formed between his eyes as he focused on what she'd written. Part of her cringed away from the condemnation that was surely coming her way. The rest of her was determined to see this through. Chrom couldn't lead effectively if he wasn't aware of potential problems that could interfere with their future engagements.

She knew when he got to the last few items, because his lips quirked into a grin he made no effort to hide. When he was finished, he leaned back.

“How long do you think it will take you to do all this?”

_A month for most. Longer for a few._

Chrom nodded and stood. “We have six days.”

Robin resisted the urge to Thunder some sense into him. It was surprisingly easy, given her Thunder tome was in her room.

_Why?_

Chrom rested his hand lightly on the hilt of his sword. “The Shepherds have been working to form and train militias in every village in Ylisse. It's one of the reasons we've been trekking all over the halidom.

“But while some of the villages may be able to face bandits and the like successfully, none of them have been prepared to fight the Risen.”

He looked firm and resolute, the very image of the captain giving his report, but his eyes pleaded with her to understand.

And she did. She had seen those things up close, and she wouldn't have wished them on her worst enemy—whoever that might have been. And certainly not on innocent villages.

“I know I'm asking for the impossible, but remember you don't have to do that all by yourself. Any and all of us will be at your disposal.”

_All right._

She gave him an unhappy look before capping her ink and making sure the it had dried properly before closing her book. Robin stowed everything in her pockets and got to her feet. She was going to be very busy, so she might as well get started.

“Frederick will probably use this as an excuse to reinstate his Fanatical Fitness Hour,” Chrom said with a rueful laugh as they followed the path back to the barracks. She gave him a questioning look, but he shook his head. “Don't ask. You'll sleep better not knowing what's about to be unleashed upon us all.”

She sighed, and her stomach let out a grumble that was distinctly dragon-like.

“Ha. Yes, I think we'll start in the kitchens.” Chrom led them in a slightly different direction.

_But I—_

“A veritable mountain of work, yes, I know. One of the first things you'll learn as a Shepherd is that you can't do your job very well if you're swaying on your feet and faint from hunger.”

Chrom’s jaw was set in that particular way of his whenever he was about to be intractably stubborn. Much as she wanted to argue, he had a point. She'd be able to work faster and more efficiently without her stomach distracting her. Besides, she could always have her revenge upon him later—when he least expected and wasn't looking for it.

Robin tugged on his arm to slow him down. _How do I arrange an assessment for each Shepherd?_

“I'll see to it first thing after you eat,” Chrom promised. “I meant what I said earlier. Every Shepherd will lend a hand—two, if need be. You're not in this alone anymore.”

Robin nodded in acknowledgment of what he'd said, but the idea still sat rather uncomfortably in her heart. It was large, unwieldy, and she had no idea what to make of it.

But to her surprise, she wanted to plant it and see what it looked like in full bloom. And so, for the moment, she allowed herself to bask in the unexpected friendships she'd found.

And those that were yet to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Robin may or may not be a bit of a pack rat. She's also in the process of discovering talents she's forgotten she had. When I first wrote this, I was as surprised as Robin was when Emmeryn saw a bird in a block of roughly carved wood. It fit the arc her carving is going to take, so I left it in.
> 
> Robin's introduction to Ylisse was always going to be bumpy. I couldn't imagine everyone going along with Chrom's plan to have her serve as his tactician without a few reservations. The court, it turned out, had more than a few. It was lucky that Emmeryn got to Robin first.
> 
> The next few chapters will focus on Robin prepping for the upcoming journey to Regna Ferox. She's going to get a sense of who the Shepherds are, but it will take her a little longer to get the bigger picture. And they of her.
> 
> Chrom managed to be subtle once in this chapter, so I'm counting that as a win. It may be a while before that happens again.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

The happy feeling Robin had basked in through breakfast vanished in the shadow of the mountain of metal and disapproval staring her down.

Chrom, true to his word, had put together an itinerary that would allow her to observe and assess each and every Shepherd over the next few days.

Starting with Frederick.

She glanced at him, calculating how fast she'd need to move to clear the fence surrounding the training field. One advantage of being merely mortal was that she'd fit through the gap in the slats, whereas he wouldn't. Then she'd find Chrom and talk some sense into him. Surely she could just observe Frederick's fighting style and techniques first. Get an idea of what to expect and how to avoid being skewered by that lance of his.

“Keep the point of your sword elevated, Robin,” Frederick said, as though they were engaging in nothing more than polite conversation. “Hold the hilt firmly, but not so tight as to choke your grip.”

Chrom had also found her a sword . . . right before he'd patted her on the shoulder, wished her luck, and abandoned her to what would likely be her first—and last—match.

The traitor.

Shifting her stance nervously, Robin raised the point and eased her grip, but only slightly. Frederick was at least two or three heads taller than she was, and four or five people heavier.

Which meant she needed to move fast. Use her smaller frame to her advantage, rather than allowing him to use it to her detriment.

“When you are ready, come at me.” Frederick’s expression was as stoic as ever, and he held his lance parallel and tucked against his side, blade upright.

Robin wasn't sure whether she felt relieved or insulted that he wasn't even pointing his weapon at her.

_Certain you don't want me to use a practice sword?_

“Stop delaying and get back into the proper stance.”

_But it's safer_ , she argued.

“Robin,” the faintest strains of exasperation leaked into his somber tone, “neither you nor your blade will touch me. Now raise your sword.”

Frowning, she did as he said. Her temper gnawed away the last vestige of her fear. So certain he was untouchable, was he?

Screaming a silent war cry, she feinted left, pivoted toward the right at the last moment, bringing her sword around—

Pain exploded in her chest. Robin flailed her arms as she smashed into the ground, tailbone first. Her mouth moved frantically, but her air had been knocked so thoroughly out of her that she couldn't even gasp for air.

“Maribelle.”

Robin’s head was ringing too hard to be sure, but she thought she heard footsteps coming in her direction. Then the first drop of healing magic from Maribelle’s staff hit her, and she was too busy enjoying the pain melting away to worry over much about anything else.

“How do you feel now?”

Robin opened her eyes to find Maribelle leaning over her with a carefully blank expression on her face.

She smiled and mimed her thanks.

Maribelle sighed, but nodded. “Do try to be a bit more careful. I am merely a Troubador, and as such, can only heal you up to a certain point.”

Good to know. And now visions of her broken body being carted off the field invaded Robin’s mind.

Lovely. Just . . . lovely.

“What was your first mistake?” Frederick asked, standing there like some fairy tale knight errant. Tall. Noble. Vaguely irritated. How hard did he have to polish his armor for the sunlight to gleam off it like that?

Robin glared at him. Her first mistake had been listening to Chrom. Followed closely by her second, when she'd agreed to spar with Frederick.

“Well?” Frederick’s expression told her he was prepared to stand there as long as it took to make her into something—anything—more than a liability with a sword.

He was, she feared, going to be standing there for quite a long time.

Two could play at that game, however. Robin got to her feet and retrieved her sword. She frowned as she reviewed her attack.

_Not striking fast enough?_

Was it her imagination or had Frederick's lips twitched?

“Before that.”

_Obvious feint?_

“Before that.”

_Too fast?_

“Before that.”

Robin glared at Frederick. There really wasn't anything left.

_Agreeing to spar?_

He narrowed his eyes, but betrayed no other emotion. “After that.”

_I have no idea._

“You failed to keep the point of your sword raised. So when you went in for the strike, it was no trouble at all for me to prevent you from finishing your swing by utilizing the shaft of my lance,” Frederick said. “Now, try again.”

Utilizing the shaft of his lance, huh? Is that what they called impaling a person with the wrong end of the pointed stick?

Then the rest of what he'd said sunk in.

Robin stared at him. Had he lost his wits? Why did he think she would voluntarily—Blue. Lots and lots of blue. The image of Chrom standing beside her at court appeared in her mind’s eye, reminding her that she wasn't about to be turned into pulp for her own benefit. No, until she'd proven herself, she was fighting for _him_. Both for the ideals he lived, and the trust he'd earned from everyone involved.

He had stood for her, and her own sense of honor could allow her to do no less.

Even if it killed her.

With a sigh, she did her best to get back into the proper fighting stance Frederick had taught her. Feet shoulder width apart, elbows lightly bent, weight on the balls of her feet.

“Robin.”

She looked at him.

“Elevate the point. Now come again.”

Robin soon lost count of how many times she'd attempted to attack Frederick. Fortunately for her, he hadn't repelled her subsequent efforts quite as . . . vigorously as her first try. Even so, each and every attempt had depressingly consistent results. Frederick would tell her to correct something or other, then he'd tell her to come at him—which she would, throwing every bit of herself into it. If she was lucky, she'd simply miss, swinging at empty air. If she wasn't lucky, and she rarely was, she'd manage to cross paths with that wretched lance of his. Never before had Robin realized exactly how painful an unassuming wooden pole could be

By the end of their session, Robin was sorely tempted to just throw her sword at Frederick. He hadn't been smug in his earlier assessment, just realistic. She hadn't come close to landing a hit on him no matter what strategy she employed. He was lighter and faster on his feet than she'd given him credit for, and he had an uncanny ability to tell when she was feinting. The entire time, he was never anywhere close to where she swung her sword.

“You have the makings of a true novice,” he'd said while she nursed her wounded dignity and Maribelle attended to the goose egg on the back of her head. “If you apply yourself regularly, I expect you will have a marked improvement.”

She fixed him with her darkest glower while Maribelle patched up another black eye. They'd gone through two healing staffs, and he hadn't even broken a sweat.

Frederick’s lips twitched once more, and he bowed. “Now, as for your observations and assessments, are you ready to begin?”

Begin?

_I thought . . ._

Frederick shook his head. “In this case, I was taking stock of your abilities. Normally during training we would not have a healer present.”

Robin gaped at him, aghast. She wouldn't have to worry about failing to live up to anyone's expectations. She'd be too busy dying to be concerned over what some important lord thought about her.

How could—how did—anyone survive?

“Ah, Stahl,” Frederick greeted someone behind her. “A good morning to you.”

A man in green armor with olive colored hair and a pleasant disposition joined them. Robin frowned, trying to place him from supper the night before, but came up blank. To be fair, there were a great many more of them than there were of her.

“Frederick. Hey Robin.” He nodded. “Maribelle.”

Robin got to her feet and bobbed a shallow curtsy.

“So, Chrom said you need to assess my fighting abilities?”

She nodded and pointed to Frederick. It was no small relief when she slipped her greatcoat back on and extracted one of her new books and a quill. She almost felt sorry for Stahl. He seemed nice enough, but at least he had plate armor standing between him and the underside of the lance.

Maribelle returned to a garden chair she'd dragged over to the training yard. Robin followed her, perching on the top slat of the fence, ink and quill at the ready.

“My dear Lissa said you fought with them in Southtown, and again in the forest.” Maribelle spun her parasol idly as she leaned back into her chair. “Was it terrible?”

Robin eyed Maribelle, wary. After the way she'd descended upon Lissa like a nervous mother hen, Robin didn't think it wise to give the other girl the complete and unvarnished truth.

Gesturing to Frederick, who was squaring off with Stahl, she shook her head. If the earlier battles, and her last bout with him, had proved anything, it was that Frederick was more than likely somewhat invincible.

Maribelle pursed her lips. “My Lissa is prone to . . . embellishing tales, shall we say, but I could hardly credit that she would have exaggerated that much. It's not like she's some lowborn commoner who needs to impress her superiors.”

Robin sighed. She could run, but apparently she couldn't escape the court even all the way out here. She gestured to Frederick again, wincing as he smashed his lance into Stahl’s side.

Perhaps she should send them all fruit baskets once she finished up with her assessments. That or a complimentary vulnerary.

Maribelle stopped twirling her parasol and looked at her, all properly frilled and earnest. “You will keep her safe, won't you? We healers aren't meant to be dashing about in the thick of it. Our staffs are meant to bring healing and relief. They are not meant, under any but the most dire of circumstances, to be used to brain our foes.”

Robin nodded and made a notation under Maribelle’s section that she was inexperienced on the field and should probably be kept from it until the fighting was over with. Although she could likely do some serious damage with that parasol of hers.

Satisfied she'd made her point, Maribelle fell silent while they watched Frederick and Stahl spar.

Although Stahl took nearly as many hits as he gave, his shorter reach gave Frederick the advantage. This was only underscored when they mounted up. Unlike Sully’s horse, Stahl’s wasn't so much an offensive unit as a defensive one. It didn't try to kick or bite Frederick or Quicksilver, but instead danced out of the way whenever Frederick lunged forward.

Or tried to, at least. Quicksilver was definitely living up to her name. The horse served as an extension of Frederick, dodging, weaving, lunging in a complicated dance that mirrored her master.

So, where to best place Stahl and how to help him improve?

His main problem on the field would be his lack of reach. Still, as a cavalier, he had certain advantages over the infantry. So how to exploit them?

Jotting down a few notes, including looking into whether or not Stahl’s horse could be trained to leap into the action instead of dancing around it, Robin hopped off the fence and walked over to the two men who were waiting for her.

“Well, how'd I do?” Stahl was slightly out of breath and had a number of new dents to pound out of his armor.

In reply, Robin gestured for Frederick to raise his lance. She drew her own sword and darted forward to close the distance between them. Now that she was inside Frederick's guard, she had more room to strike him.

Giving her an inscrutable look, Fredrick twirled his lance to bring the tip around. In the split second it took him to do that, she went against every survival instinct she possessed and pressed closer rather than pulling back.

His eyes widened, and in a fluid movement, he reversed his hold on the lance and thrust the shaft toward her like the blunt weapon it was.

Having spent the better part of the morning being jabbed and hit by the shaft, Robin twisted out of he way. Frederick still managed to tap her with it, but not hard enough to merit Maribelle's attention. Which was a clear win in her book.

Stahl rubbed the back of his neck. “So . . . ?”

Robin sighed. Having a voice would have really come in handy right about now. She turned to Frederick.

_Fine. Will have a written report for him tomorrow._

Frederick nodded at the cavalier. “You performed well enough, although you need to work on pressing forward to your advantage. Robin will have a report to you on the morrow.”

“All right then,” Stahl said, looking relieved. “If we're done here, I'll go let Vaike know you're ready for him.”

While Stahl jogged away with his horse, Frederick patted Quicksilver on the neck.

“Chrom may not have mentioned it, but you'll need to be sure to write out the reports in triplicate.”

_What?_ Her hand started aching just thinking about all that extra work.

“You'll need a copy for your records,” Frederick said, ticking them off on his fingers. “One for the Shepherd you've assessed. And one for me.”

Robin frowned at him. Did he not trust her to get it done? Or did he think she would do a poor job?

“I stand in for Chrom when he is busy with his other duties. It is imperative that we keep each other apprised of what we are doing.” When her frown deepened, Frederick sighed and went on, “Your job is to see that the Shepherds function well as a cohesive unit and to plan for our future engagements. Mine is to ensure every soldier is combat ready.”

Robin nodded, not quite ready to believe it was really as simple as that.

“The Teach is here and school’s in session!”

Robin groaned silently.

Of course he was.

Waving, she jogged back over to Maribelle and hopped back up on the fence.

“He may look an oaf and play the part on occasion, but Vaike is a capable warrior in his own right.”

Robin’s disbelief must have shown on her face, because Maribelle shook her head.

“He cannot help what he is. Vaike . . .” Maribelle pursed her lips and glanced at Robin from the corner of her eye. She shifted in her seat and went back to twirling her parasol.

Vaike what? When Maribelle didn't go on, Robin leaned down and tapped her on the shoulder. Maribelle started, and Robin narrowly avoided being skewered by the pointed end of the parasol.

“W-what? Oh.” For a long moment, Maribelle didn't say anything. Then, just as Robin was about to give up, she murmured, “It isn't my story to tell, but Vaike’s upbringing was rather lacking in certain areas.”

Robin squinted at the warrior, trying and failing to unwrap the layers of meaning Maribelle had so casually brought up. He looked exactly how you'd expect a warrior to—Wait. She blinked. What in the—

Hopping off the fence, she made a beeline toward the pair.

“You ready to get some serious learning done, Frederick? Because I've been doing a whole lotta—”

“Ready Your weapon, Vai—Robin? Is something amiss?”

She pointed at Vaike. The only armor he was wearing was a piece that covered his left arm from the shoulder down. Sort of like an arm-shaped shield. Which was all he was wearing on his upper body, save for a metal collar that was designed to protect his throat.

Frederick arched a brow. He opened his mouth to ask what she wanted, but Vaike seized the moment and flexed his biceps.

“I'll bet you've never seen anything like the Vaike before.”

No, she could honestly say that she hadn't.

“You have a concern, Robin?” Frederick asked, keeping both his tone and his expression carefully neutral.

_He isn't wearing much armor. Shouldn't he—_

“What's with all the hand waving?” Vaike asked, grinning. “Has the awesomeness that is the Vaike struck you speechless? I get that a lot.”

Robin’s fingers twitched for her Thunder tome.

“Robin was concerned with your choice of armor,” Frederick translated.

“Aw, you don't have to worry about me. The Vaike moves better when he isn't restricted. My muscles need to breathe, you know?”

Robin regretted leaving her perch over by Maribelle. Frederick knew what he was doing, and they had a healer on hand. Besides, Vaike was a Shepherd. One who, she assumed, had survived at least one battle. If he got skewered by Frederick, it wouldn't be her fault.

She saluted Frederick and made her way back to her perch. Conscience clear. No worries here.

“Ready your weapon.” Frederick raised his lance.

“You're about to get schooled, Frederick.” Vaike smirked and reached over his shoulder. The glee in his expression dimmed when his fingers closed over nothing but air.

Robin looked on in confusion, while Maribelle groaned and hid her face in one hand.

“Uh . . . “

Frederick's look of long suffering could be felt even from where they sat. “I would hope that you came prepared. Chrom told you that you would be facing me in combat, did he not?”

“Well, yeah. But see, here’s the thing. I remembered what you said before, about be prepared and all that. So while I was waiting for my turn, I decided to sneak in some extra training. And, well, uh . . . “

“Please tell me you at least know where you left your weapon.”

“Well, see, the funny thing about the extra training—”

Frederick sighed. He walked over to a tree a few paces behind them and picked up an ax that was leaning against it. Wordlessly, he handed it to Vaike.

Vaike, seemingly oblivious to the aura of disappointment and exasperation coating the training field, examined the ax. “It's not exactly Righteous Fury . . .” He gave it a few experimental swings. “But it'll do.”

“His ax,” Maribelle muttered. Then, noticing Robin’s expression, “Yes, he named his ax. Something about needing to be on an even footing with his arch rival.”

Arch rival? Were there other bands like the Shepherds in Ylisse? From what little she'd gleaned at court, Robin hadn't thought so. She made a note to ask Chrom later.

“I am pleased it meets your standards,” Frederick said with all the stoicism he exhibited when Lissa and Chrom were at their worst.

“That it does,” Vaike said, twirling the ax in a pattern more complicated than Robin would have thought possible for him to manage. “So let's get going already.”

Robin shook her head and made a notation that Vaike would do best with short, direct, concrete orders that left little room for misunderstanding. And irony. To expect lots and lots of irony.

However once the two began to spar, her respect for Vaike went up a couple of notches. He continued to throw taunts out while he fought, but Robin found that if she ignored what he was saying, and concentrated instead on what he was doing, that most of her previous fears had been unfounded.

Maribelle hadn't been exaggerating Vaike’s abilities. He fared a little better than Stahl had in a number of maneuvers, and managed to slip past Frederick's guard a time or two. Of course, that was as far as he got, but the fact that he'd got even that far against Frederick was commendable.

What struck Robin the most was how much his fighting style resembled dancing. He was constantly leaping about, bouncing on the balls of his feet. There was a rugged sort of grace to his movements that surprised her, and was completely at odds with her first impressions. Hmmm. Perhaps she had been hasty in forming her opinions.

“Hey there,” Sully greeted them. She held Brazen Thunder’s reins lightly in her hand. The horse, for its part, remained aloof. “Chrom said you should be just about ready for me.”

“Vaike got a late start,” Maribelle said on Robin’s behalf.

“Don't tell me he misplaced his ax again.” Sully leaned back against the fence.

“Would that I could.” Maribelle didn't quite slouch in her seat. Her brows were drawn together like she had a headache, and her lips were pursed.

“Mutton for brains,” Sully laughed with an amicability that struck an odd note for Robin. When Sully noticed Robin watching her, she gestured to the field. “So what do you think? He got what it takes to land a hit on Frederick?”

It wasn't really fair to judge anyone against Frederick. The man was a legend and probably had a statue or two standing around some village square in his honor. Vaike had managed to dance in close a few times, but he hadn't landed a hit yet. On the other hand, he hadn't gotten hit as many times as Stahl or herself.

Robin bit her bottom lip and shook her head slowly. One day, if Vaike continued to put in time for extra training, perhaps. Frederick could only get older from here on out, and every once in a while miracles did happen. She'd survived three separate skirmishes, after all.

Sully laughed and slapped Robin on the back, nearly knocking her off the fence. “Tell it straight. I like that. Say, have you gone up against him yet?”

Robin couldn't suppress a shudder as she nodded. Sully laughed again.

“He drive you into the ground with the butt of his lance yet?”

Robin’s memories of her sparring session with Frederick were reduced to bouts of intense concentration, determination, panic, and pain. Lots and lots of pain.

“The very first move he made,” Maribelle said.

Robin blinked, the hazy recollection of pain exploding in her sternum and flying backward into the ground slowly became more solid. Huh. So that's what had happened.

“He always does that to the new recruits,” Sully explained, eyeing Robin thoughtfully. “Think of it as Frederick's way of welcoming you into the fold.”

Robin frowned, trying to picture Frederick pulling that same move on the halidom’s crown prince. She wasn't sure whether she should be worried or amused that she could picture it so clearly in her mind.

“The healers,” Maribelle said primly, “are of course exempt from such barbaric frivolities.”

“Eh, don't let it get you down. Frederick never extends his welcome until you've earned his respect.” Sully patted Brazen Thunder’s neck and ruffled her fingers through her sleek mane. “Must be more to you than meets the eye.”

Robin shifted uncomfortably under Sully’s scrutiny, and did her best to ignore Maribelle’s politely speculative looks. She was exactly as she was. Without her memories, Robin didn't have the power to be anything else.

The clash of metal drew her attention back to the center of the training ground. Vaike was ducking and weaving and twirling his ax so quickly, her eye couldn't follow the movement. He'd stopped shouting taunts, and instead focused on surviving with minimal bruising.

Robin approved of that plan.

Frederick, stoic as ever, moved with precision. No wasted movement. No signs of strain. Just a blue mountain of metal determined to last beyond everything else. His lance was a streak of silver as he countered, parried, and at last pushed through Vaike’s guard.

He managed to catch the curved part of the ax on the tip of his lance. With a sharp twist, he ripped the weapon out of Vaike’s hands.

For a moment, Robin was certain Vaike was going to have a go with his fists before he conceded to Fredrick.

“You're getting slower, Fred,” Vaike wheezed as he bent over and leaned on his knees. “Almost had you there.”

Frederick, who managed to look as prim and proper as always, despite the light sheen of sweat on his brow, narrowed his eyes. “Don't call me that.”

“Almost schooled by the Vaike,” Vaike went on as though Frederick wasn't standing there ready to rain thunder down upon him. “If you hadn't gotten lucky there, the ending would've been different.”

“Alas, we shall never know. Robin will have your report to you tomorrow. You are dismissed.”

Vaike raised his hand. “Make sure you put how close the Vaike came to victory in your report!”

Robin made a noncommittal wave which Vaike seemed to take as an affirmative. He gave a final salute before he strutted off the field.

“Looks like I'm up,” Sully said, an odd light gleaming in her eye. Before she pushed off the fence, she leaned over to Robin. “Take good notes, ya hear? I intend to beat Frederick one of these days, and I'm counting on you to show me where I need to up my game.”

Robin gave her a weak smile. How on earth was she supposed to figure out how to help Sully beat Frederick, of all people? She'd only held her current post since early that morning. Coming up with a plan would take time. Time for her to discover his weaknesses. Then she'd have come up with counter measures, and backups for those in case they failed. Such designs could not simply be conjured up—

“Don't take everything Sully said to heart,” Maribelle said, tossing her head.“Sully has this silly idea that the only way to prove herself worthy of knighthood is to best each and every Shepherd.”

That was . . . good to know.

“Hey there, Frederick.”

“Sully.”

“Don't go easy on me.” She untied to lance from where she'd rigged it to hang parallel from the saddle.

“I wouldn't dream of it.”

“Good, because I intend to kick your a—lance into the next kingdom.”

Robin giggled silently at the look Frederick had given Sully. It had prim disapproval mixed with you're-better-than-that disappointment, and a dash of you'd-better-be-better-than-that-if-you-know-what’s-good-for-you frown. If only they could unleash that power on the brigands infesting the border. The bandits would be lining up to help little old ladies with their parcels before they knew what’d hit them.

Once they were both mounted, they nodded briefly. Sully leaped forward, lance glittering in the sunlight. Frederick snapped his up, and the dance began once more.

It was immediately apparent that Sully's style of fighting was different from the two Robin had already watched that morning. Stahl and Vaike, while different on the surface, worked to stay on their feet (or horse) and minimize the hits they took while making use of openings as they appeared.

Sully didn't wait for openings so much as she created them. While she didn't hit as hard as Stahl, she moved faster and more efficiently. Brazen Thunder took after her mistress, snapping teeth and flashing hooves, forcing Quicksilver to live up to her name.

Robin winced at every clash and clang. Frederick certainly wasn't holding back and neither was Sully. If she hadn't known better, Robin would have thought they were trying to kill each other. There was a fierce intensity to every one of Sully’s thrusts, and determination in every parry. She also tended to use either end of her lance as she worked to smash past Frederick’s guard. And while Frederick wasn't slower by any means, Sully was fast enough that he looked, for a moment, as mortal as the rest of them.

“Aside from Frederick, Sully works the hardest at her training out of all of us,” Maribelle said. She polished the stone at the top of her staff with a pale pink handkerchief, and it wasn't lost on Robin that no one else had required a healer.

“It was a good thing she happened upon your party in the forest.”

Robin nodded before narrowing her eyes. Maribelle’s tone had been a touch too light for it to have been nothing more than an idle remark. Was this about Lissa again? If she'd had her voice, she would have reassured Maribelle that if she had anything to say about it, the princess wouldn't ever be called upon the battlefield. Robin had done her best to avoid thinking about the weight of the responsibility she had in keeping two of the three members of the royal family safe from harm.

Perhaps it was this weight that had edged Frederick's wariness into paranoia. Or why he'd turned out as he had.

No, she realized as she watched Frederick do something with his lance that she couldn't make sense of, but ended with Sully landing in a clatter of scarlet armor on the ground. No, he'd likely been born wearing armor. As a child, he had probably never cried. He'd probably spent his childhood honing the edge of his stoic nature into near invincibility.

“The hell?” Sully demanded. She sat up and put a hand to her head.

Brazen Thunder stood over her protectively, and Robin watched with growing amusement as man and horse stared each other down.

“A new move I have been perfecting,” Frederick said, a hint of pride in his voice. “A little slower than I'd like, but on the whole a satisfactory experiment.”

He dismounted and held out a hand to Sully.

“You're going to have to teach me . . . whatever that was.” She picked up her lance and checked it for damage. “Damn near ripped off my arm.”

Robin crooked her mouth to the side. Perhaps she was wrong, but were people usually so cheerful after being knocked from the saddle?

“Do you need my assistance?” Maribelle stood, holding her staff lightly in her hands.

Sully waved her off. “Nah. Nothing a little more training can't solve.”

“In that case, I'll be off. There are things I need to attend to.” Maribelle nodded at them with the air of a queen dismissing her court before she glided off in the direction of the castle.

“Hope you got some good insights to help me improve.”

Robin froze. How was she supposed to explain, let alone come up with a way to counter a move she hadn't really seen?

“Robin will have your report to you tomorrow,” Frederick said with the tranquility that came from knowing the paperwork (in triplicate!) was someone else's problem to deal with.

“Looking forward to it.” Sully gave a wave that looked more like a salute. She led Brazen Thunder off with a promise of carrots once they'd put in some more training.

_That last move_ , she asked Frederick hopefully, _What was it exactly?_

Frederick laughed. “A puzzle for Sully to figure out on her own, and you may tell her I said as much.”

Robin clutched the book she was keeping her notes in. It would seem Frederick still had it out for her.

Frederick sighed. “Robin, there's nothing to be afraid of.”

Ha! Easy for him to say. He could hold his own against Sully. On a good day, Robin might be able to stand against Lissa—provided they took away her staff first.

“Was there something more?”

Robin blinked. Frederick had gathered the few pieces of equipment he'd brought out and was ready to lead Quicksilver back to the stables.

She shook her head and made sure the cap on her ink bottle was secure. It was a small gesture, but all she had to show for the morning’s work.

“I believe they are serving a luncheon in the common room back in the barracks if you're hungry.”

Taking the hint, Robin waved and made her way back to the castle. Her stomach gurgled in anticipation, but she shook her head. Food could wait. She had five and a half days to catch up on the last few hundred years’ worth of history, geography, and military strategies.

Which meant she should probably head for the library.

Robin’s steps slowed as her dilemma made itself known. She had no idea where the library was, and no way to ask without writing it down. And that was presupposing that whichever servant she asked could read. Which wasn't always, or usually, a given.

She came to a stop as that last thought hit her.

How did she know that?

What's more, was it true universally or was it a hint as to where she'd come from?

Robin wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to that. It might have been a product of her amnesia, but in a single day, that home-shaped hole in her heart was starting to look a lot like Ylisse.

A realization that both frightened and anchored her.

“Robin? Are you all right?”

Robin started at the sound of her name. Sumia stood a few paces away, a friendly smile on her face.

She nodded, wondering how to go about asking Sumia for help. Perhaps she ought to make some time in between history and tactics to get started on her language. But then what if she missed something important that ended up getting someone hurt? Or worse?

Robin’s fingers curled into fists. There just weren't enough hours in the day, not with their current six day timeline.

“Are you sure?” Sumia asked, laughing nervously. “Because right now you look a little angry.”

With effort, Robin uncurled her fingers, unclenched her jaw, and forced herself to smile. Frustration, like a good many other things, would have to wait in line.

But that still didn't solve her problem.

Sumia’s eyes widened. “Oh, I forgot. Here, I've got you covered.”

Robin accepted the slim wooden case Sumia had thrust at her with bemused confusion. She didn't remember asking for such a thing. Was it a welcome gift of some sort?

“You just open these latches here so the lid can swing up like this, and everything you need is inside.”

Robin blinked at the contents and her throat went a little tight. Pages of vellum, crisp and white, took up the majority of the space, but a quill and three small bottles of ink were tucked neatly on the side.

She looked up at Sumia who had gone from cheerful to anxiously tugging on one of her curls. “I know it's not perfect, but I thought—”

Robin sat down and carefully uncapped a bottle of ink. To her delight, it was a lovely shade of violet. With a careful hand, she wrote:

_Thank you, Sumia. It's perfect._

Then, because deadlines waited for no one:

_Could you show me the way to the library?_

She handed the page of vellum to Sumia who read it with a crease between her brows.

“Robin, I—” She flipped the page over and her expression cleared. “The library? I'd be happy to. I was on my way there anyhow.”

Robin repacked her little writing desk. No matter that Ylisse was filling that home-shaped hole in her heart, she was obviously from somewhere that apparently wrote on the wrong side of everything. Even though both sides of the vellum looked identical to her untrained eye.

“I think you'll like the library,” Sumia said, leading the way. “One of the past exalts was a bit of a bookworm, so we ended up having one of the largest libraries on the continent.”

With each step they took, Robin's step grew a little lighter. She hadn't thought to be worried that the library might not have the books she needed, so it was odd she should feel as much relief as she did.

Then there was Sumia and her gift. The memory of it sat warm and radiant, yet in created a strange sort of ache that she couldn't begin to describe or understand.

But the important thing was she could communicate. It took a little longer and was less convenient, but the person she was conversing with only had to be able to read. They didn't have to be fluent in the language she and Lissa were creating.

Sumia continued to tell her interesting tidbits about the castle and some of Ylisse’s history while they walked. Robin usually abhorred small talk in any and every capacity, but she enjoyed listening to Sumia speak. Not only did she have interesting things to say, but her love for home and country shone through in every word that she spoke.

It was a light that Robin hoped to one day have.

“Oh, and here we are.” Sumia led her into what at first glance might have been called a large hall, but that—with all its twists and turns leading to other levels—Robin was certain was a cavern of knowledge. “Was there anything you were looking for in particular?”

It took Robin a moment before she was able to tear her eyes away from the beautiful shelves upon shelves upon shelves of books.

_History, military tactics and strategies, and geography. Maps, if you have them_. She could barely keep her hand steady as she wrote, and her eyes kept straying to the books. If she had known it would be her job to spend hours in this beautiful place, she wouldn't have been so upset over Chrom springing a surprise commission on her.

“Ah, I believe those are over this way.” Sumia’s cheeks colored and she stumbled a little. “I-I'm afraid I spend more time over where the novels are shelved.”

Robin frowned. Why did Sumia look like she was bracing herself for a lecture? She took the vellum from Sumia and scrawled out, _I have a lot of information to learn in a short amount of time, but once I'm done with that, I'd love it if you showed me your favorite places in here._

Sumia’s eyes widened, and she looked so happy that Robin didn't mind too much that she'd written on the wrong side of the vellum once more.

“R-really? You mean that?”

Robin nodded.

Beaming now, Sumia led her over to a little alcove nestled in a corner just off the main room.

“This is the history wing,” Sumia said, wrinkling her nose against the fine layer of dust that had settled over everything. “I'm not sure where exactly the tactics section is, but I'm sure one of the librarians could help us out.”

‘Thank you,’ Robin mouthed. This was definitely more than she could have ever hoped.

And it was all hers . . . Metaphorically speaking.

Robin sighed with contentment as she walked over to the nearest shelf and examined the golden letters etched onto each spine.

It wasn't until she'd dragged two decently sized towers of books over to one of the tables next to a window that she realized Sumia had bidden her good luck and goodbye. But then she found another section she'd missed before and promptly forgot about everything else.

There was a surprisingly large section on military tactics and strategies, and a number of maps that had been thoughtfully marked up so she could see how the various plans had been employed. Whoever had come up with these maneuvers had been brilliant, if somewhat cold. Whole towns and villages had been devastated—on paper at least. Wherever she was from, it probably wasn't Plegia. There would have been few, if any, survivors left after a campaign like the one laid out in red and blue lines across the maps.

Robin shook her head and turned back to the section where the histories had been shelved. She needed something to cleanse her palate, because the lines on the maps were getting harder and harder to read.

“Uh, Robin? You in there?” Lissa poked her head over the fortress of books Robin had barricaded herself behind.

Robin jumped, managing to clench the book between her hands to prevent it from going airborne in the princess's direction.

“Wow. Sumia told me she'd kind of lost you in the library, but I had no idea.” Lissa looked in awe at the different piles of books that had spread out to encompass nearly the whole floor of the alcove.

_This is Chrom's fault_ , Robin wrote. She blinked at the window, realizing for the first time that the sunlight had nearly gone completely.

A librarian—possibly the one she'd begged some vellum off of once she'd run out of her own—used a taper to light a few of the candles in the alcove. She bobbed a curtsy at them and disappeared back into the main section of the library.

Lissa waved a hand, disbelief written in every line of her. “How is Chrom behind all this? I wasn't kidding when I said he mainly came to the library to hide from Frederick.”

_Six day deadline to become an expert_. Robin marked a passage in the book with her finger and scrawled down some more notes. _Did you know that dragons really are a thing?_

“Sure they are,” Lissa said, then shook her head. “Wait a moment. Chrom gave you six days to learn all of this?” She waved her hands at the shelves that looked as though they had simply vomited their books all onto the floor.

_For starters. Do you know the name of the first exalt? The one who killed the dragon? Haven't been able to find his name._

“His name? I think it was—Wait.” Lissa snatched the book Robin had been reading and held it out of reach. “I came here to make sure you made it to supper, because no one remembers seeing you at lunch. You did have something to eat, didn't you?”

_Lunch?_ Robin gave up trying to reclaim her book and refocused her attention back on the maps.

Speaking of Plegia, Southtown was near the border, and Chrom had said that was where the brigands were from. Huh. So why would they be briganding rather than rebuilding? And hadn't Chrom said something about—

“Yes. Lunch as in food. When was the last time you ate?”

Robin frowned. Unless the Plegian Campaign had been ages ago, long enough to rebuild and for the criminal element to gain a strong enough foothold.

Still, the strategies were sound—

“That's it.” Lissa grabbed a bewildered Robin by the arm and hauled her out of the alcove, past the librarians, and out into the main corridor. “Clearly the books have eaten your brains and it's up to me to save you from yourself. Chrom is going to—”

“Going to what?” The man in question appeared as they rounded a corner. “What took you so long, Liss? Did you get lost?”

Lissa glared at her brother. “Did you really expect Robin to memorize half the library in six days?”

“I—what? Of course not. Why do you—Robin?” He caught one arm before she wandered off while Lissa grabbed the other.

“Oh, no you don't. No more books for you until after you've eaten something.” Lissa transferred her glare to Robin.

_Not hungry. I need to cross reference the historical timeline with the maps._

“See what you did?” Lissa rounded on her brother. “She was perfectly normal earlier, but now she's turned into some kind of book zombie!”

“Now, Liss. Surely you're exaggerating.”

“You should go look at the section where they keep all the history books if you don't believe me.”

Chrom stared at both of them, incredulous. “I'm not really sure what this has to do with me.”

_Really. I'm not hungry._

Chrom looked half convinced, but before Lissa could argue, Robin’s stomach growled loud enough to be heard halfway across the castle.

“Well, that settles things,” Chrom said laughing. “Why don't we get you to the dining hall and Lissa can explain why all this is my fault.”

Lissa huffed a sigh and rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help grinning at her brother—mostly because he always allowed her to hold him to his word. There was also the small wager she had going with Maribelle to consider.

Robin looked at each of them, realized they were going to insist—however politely that might be—and allowed them to take her to the dining hall.

By the time they arrived, most of the Shepherds had come and gone, leaving behind dirty plates, colorful spills, and trails of breadcrumbs.

The aroma from what was left of supper lured the rest of Robin’s mind out of the library and back into the present. And the present, she realized, was famished.

Lissa slid a plate piled with food in her direction before she launched into a heavily embellished tale of braving a fort made of books to rescue a bewitched tactician who had to be on the brink of starvation.

“Really?” Chrom raised a brow and crossed his arms.

Lissa crossed her own. “Ask the librarians.”

Once Robin started eating, she realized how well and truly famished she was. The meal, while plain fare, was hearty and delicious. It was also magical, because every time her plate or cup got too close to empty, they refilled themselves when she wasn't looking. She thought she detected the gleam of magic in the candlelight, but she eventually decided she was just seeing things.

Maybe Lissa hadn't exaggerated things as much as she'd thought.

“Fine,” Chrom said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I'll have a talk with the librarians.”

“See that you do, because I'm not going to have even a single Shepherd collapse from overworking under my watch. That's Frederick’s demesne.”

Chrom laughed and shook his head. “I think Frederick will be in agreement with you.” He turned to Robin as she mopped her plate with a wedge of bread. “So what have you got planned for the rest of the day, Robin?”

She finished chewing and frowned. _When are we?_

Lissa slapped her forehead. “Evening, Robin. It's evening. And the library's off limits for the rest of the night, so don't even think about it.”

“I'm beginning to see what you mean, Liss.” Chrom eyed Robin speculatively. “You really were serious about that list of yours, weren't you?”

Robin blinked at him. _Of course_. And then, after she reviewed her mental list, _Wordsmithing. With Lissa._

“Word what now?”

In reply, Robin hooked her thumbs and flapped her hands in imitation of Virion’s earlier suggestion.

“Oh yeah.” Lissa smiled. She turned to her brother, the picture of innocence. “Wanna help, Chrom?”

“I would, but I still have to go over some things with Frederick. Maybe next time?” As he spoke, Chrom got to his feet. “I should probably find him now before he has to come looking for me.”

_Good luck._

“Thanks,” Chrom said. “I'm probably going to need it.”

Robin stared after him, intensely grateful that she wasn't Chrom.

“Hey, Robin!” Lissa waved a hand in front of her face. “Ready to get started?”

Robin nodded, banishing the last bit of bookish longing for the time being. It would be nice to be able to communicate more effectively, and she had no doubt that Lissa would excel at this sort of thing.

“Where do you think we should start?” Lissa asked on their way back to the barracks.

_Weapons_. Robin thought for a moment. _And names_. Names were probably important.

Once she had a chance to really scour the books on tactics and strategies, they'd have to add those terms—at least until they figured out a better way. Soldiers who were in the middle of fighting against a foe that would see them dead would be ill-advised to look away from the battle to see what she was directing them to do next.

Lissa grumbled something about small talk being a lost art, but even through her grumbles, she couldn't hide her excitement.

Robin put a hand to her chest. That hollow part of her heart was growing a little less empty. And the anchored part a little more sure.

So why did she feel so uneasy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It never made sense for Robin to be thrown into battle with the Shepherds (beginning after they leave Ylisstol) without having an understanding of where each member was in their training. Thus the assessments. And Frederick's revenge in demanding everything in triplicate. I'm surprised it didn't dawn on Robin that Frederick would have reports of his own written up. Probably in alphabetical order and color coded.
> 
> I'm totally guilty of inserting the library of my dreams in the castle. Also, I figured all the battle plans and maps for the war their father waged against Plegia would have been preserved somewhere. Even though they were used for a terrible purpose, they would have had historical significance, so what better place to store them than the library?
> 
> Ah, the library . . .
> 
> Mirrored from FF.net.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

_She was trapped._

_Caught in a glittering world with unreliable angles and sharp edges._

_A table full of strangers ate silently, their souls misplaced and bartered away for a semblance of hope that was little more than colored glass and silk roses._

_Above it all was a terrible weight. Anticipation. Dread._

_Hunger._

_She kept her hands folded tightly in her lap. Though she was seated in the place of honor, not a morsel of food passed through her lips. It was a small act of defiance, but the biggest she could manage. She had learned long ago the folly of drawing attention to herself. So she had to be content with small rebellions when no one was looking._

_But one day . . . One day she'd—_

"Hey Robin!"

Robin jerked awake, heart racing.

Desk. Window. Door. It took her a moment to get her bearings, and another to realize she must have fallen asleep while she was reviewing the words she and Lissa had come up with the night before.

"Whoa, sorry there." Lissa giggled. "Didn't mean to scare you quite that much."

Robin stared at her wide-eyed. Her heart was still pounding, and she couldn't form thoughts well enough to spell a coherent sentence.

Lissa laughed uncertainly. "So, really not much of a morning person, huh?"

Robin didn't need words to convey her thoughts. She let her expression speak for itself.

"I'm really sorry, but Frederick's orders."

_What?_ Clearly her ears were not working, because her shutters were open and it was still dark as night outside. The echo of a memory she couldn't quite remember shivered through her.

Lissa shrugged. "I dunno. Something about some kind of training."

Robin's shoulders sagged as she took this in. Training? At this hour? If this was Lissa's idea of a practical joke . . .

"Oh, and he said not to worry about your sword. We've got plenty of practice swords in the armory."

So, he didn't trust her with an actual blade yet. Wise man. Even so, she couldn't imagine why he'd need to teach her anything training related when it was still so dark out that she could barely see.

Lissa clasped her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels. "Uh, Robin. You might want to get a move on. Frederick has some pretty strong feelings when it comes to punctuality."

Why didn't that surprise her? Still, she couldn't quit on the second day of the job. She was a Shepherd now, and that meant something.

Robin just wished it could have meant something at a more reasonable hour.

Gusting a sigh, she got up and stretched. Fortunately she'd fallen asleep fully dressed. She wasn't sure she could remember how to lace things up properly at the moment.

_Anything else?_

Lissa grinned. "Nope. See you at breakfast." She gave Robin a stern look before leaving to go rouse some other poor soul from their dreams.

Feeling more than a little put upon, Robin pocketed a few of her books and dragged herself to the training yard. Might as well give Frederick a head start at learning her language.

It wasn't until she'd reached the yard, and Frederick had bade her a solemn good morning, that Robin realized the dread clutching her gut with icy fingers wasn't solely because of the early hour.

The reports!

Once she'd set foot inside the library, any and all thoughts of the massive paperwork she had yet to undertake had flown right out of her head. While she had all the information she needed, she hadn't yet drafted up a report in singlet, let alone triplicate.

Frederick was going to be furious. Or worse yet, disappointed.

She could almost see that soul crushing disappointment in his face now—

"Are you all right, Robin? We haven't started your training yet, and you already look as though you've seen a ghost."

Oh, she'd seen a ghost all right. Hers.

Robin sighed miserably and stuffed her hands in her pockets. Or tried to, at least. Too many books, not enough pocket space.

And yet . . . Perhaps there was still time. If she could just keep him distracted and stay out of his way until after supper, she'd have all the reports done and ready to turn in.

Putting on her most winning smile, Robin pulled out a book and opened it to the first page. She held it out to Frederick who was eyeing her with no small concern.

"What is this?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

_Words. Lissa and I came up with them_.

"Show me."

Feeling more than a little self-conscious, Robin started with sword. She mimed drawing a sword from its scabbard, then flicked her wrists in a couple of quick flourishes. She would never admit it, but she'd been thinking of Chrom when she came up with the sign. One day she hoped to draw hers with half as much confidence.

"And ax?"

She extended her left arm, palm down. Then she chopped down on her left had with her right.

"Hmm." He studied the page, and Robin wished she'd though to transcribe a cleaner version in a second book. He raised his right hand and made a throwing motion without quite letting go of the invisible shaft in his hand. "That is 'lance,' I presume?"

She nodded, apprehension still wrapped tight around her lungs.

To her surprise, he smiled as he gave the book back to her. "You have all our weapons and our names. A fine start."

Robin had just let out a sigh of relief, when he handed her what would have been a wooden sword, except the tip had been removed completely.

"Here is your sword for the morning. Let us get to training."

Knowing she was likely jinxing her uncommon good luck, Robin shook her head. _Why training? I'm a tactician_.

"So you are." Frederick picked up his lance and inspected the end. "You are also a Shepherd, and as such, you fall under my jurisdiction."

_How so?_

"It is my duty to see that every member of the Shepherds is fit for battle. Now keep your sword up and show me what you remember from yesterday."

Robin looked around nervously. They were the only two in the training field, so that meant he'd go easy on her, right? So why did the lack of healers not make her feel any better?

Taking a deep breath, she held up her sword, making sure the point was above eye level.

"Now swing at me."

As before, Frederick's movements were short and to the point. Also as before, she didn't come anywhere near landing a hit on him.

"If you want to be a danger to anyone other than yourself on the battlefield, you must have the correct stance before you even think of swinging your sword."

Robin hid her glare and focused instead on her stance.

"No. Right leg forward, Robin, balanced lightly. Good, now square yourself with your target."

Frederick was nearly twice as wide as she was, so she settled on aiming for the center.

"Remember that you and the sword must be one. Don't fight against it, but move as a single, cohesive unit. Now swing."

Robin did her best to comply. The swing started out well enough, but the arch of the blade changed halfway through, nearly knocking her off balance.

"You're holding a sword, Robin. Not a shovel." Frederick demonstrated the proper way to swing. It was more than a little unfair that he looked heroic swinging his lance like a sword. "Scooping motions mean your guard is down and your life is forfeit. Now try again."

By the tenth swing, Robin's wrists and shoulders were ready to mutiny. She still hadn't managed to swing in such a way as to gain Frederick's approval, but he didn't accuse her of overly aggressive gardening again.

So there was that.

Mercifully, Frederick held up a hand. "That's all we have time for this morning. Breakfast is still a ways off, so I would like you to practice on the sword post."

The sword post, it turned out, was a post slightly taller than Frederick stuck in the ground. At first, it appeared as though it had been smoothed by time. But when Robin reached out to touch it, she noticed a series of notches and grooves marring the surface.

"You're going to be aiming for here, here, and here," Frederick said as he daubed the three marks with scarlet wax. "To hit them at the correct angle required for the edge of your blade to slide in, you must swing correctly. Remember your stance, and that this drill is to be done with deliberation and accuracy. Speed will come later."

Then he turned and walked away. Robin wasn't sure if she should wait for him to come back or not. He really couldn't mean to leave her here to do this all alone. Even with a blunt sword, she wasn't convinced she could do this without causing injury to herself or the post.

"You'll need to have 'notched your blade' a hundred times before you are dismissed to join us for breakfast, so I would suggest you get started."

Robin stared open mouthed at his retreating figure. Her shoulders and arms had been burning around her tenth swing. There was no way she could make it to one hundred.

Even so, her empty stomach gurgled, did she really want to risk missing breakfast? If her arms fell off, surely one of the others would help her eat.

With those cheery thoughts in mind, she slipped out of her coat, got into her opening stance as best as she could remember, and then swung toward the nearest mark.

Her sword, rather than sliding into the notch, rebounded off the side, jarring everything from her shoulders on down. She managed to gain control of the swing in time to prevent accidentally beheading herself, but it was a near miss.

Robin leaned against the post, her heart thumping and her breath coming in short bursts. Apparently Frederick had overestimated her swordsmanship. She _could_ lose when facing off against a stupid wooden post with a blunted wooden blade.

And here she'd thought throwing her sword at her foe would be the hardest thing she'd have to live down. Decapitating oneself on accident had to be the greater evil of the two.

She waited a few more moments for her breaths to even out. Her hands had gone cold and clammy from the shock and her arms shook with the effort it took to lift the sword. Robin eyed the post with an intense loathing. Frederick had ordered her to notch her sword one hundred times. Well, she was going to notch it one hundred and one times before she allowed herself to even think of breakfast.

Squaring herself to the post, Robin raised her sword. In her arrogance, she had opted for speed and strength over accuracy. Frederick had specifically said speed didn't matter right now. And seeing as how the post was ill-equipped to fight back, strength had no bearing.

Accuracy it was, then.

With slow and deliberate movements, she swung. Her aim had been a little high, but she evened it out. The edge of her blade clipped the edge of the notch as it slid into place.

One.

She raised the sword, adjusted her stance, and swung once more.

* * *

"Good morning, Robin."

Robin wiped the sweat from her forehead with her arm as Sumia approached, bright and cheerful as ever.

She waved her greeting before she notched her blade for the one hundred and first time. Only once she was sure the edge had slid all the way in did she allow her fingers to go nerveless. Now that she was no longer distracted, all the pain she had ignored and pushed through pushed back with a vengeance that surprised her.

Leaning back against the pole, she slid down it into the soft, soft dirt.

"Oh dear. Are you all right, Robin? Would you like me to fetch a healer?" Sumia knelt down next to her, a worry line furrowing itself between her eyes.

Robin was working up the energy to sign, _Yes, a healer would be a very good idea_ , but before she could lift a finger, Frederick appeared looking disgustingly fresh and energized.

"Ah, Sumia, as punctual as ever." Frederick nodded his greeting. Then, noticing Robin, he said, "Am I to assume from your prone position that you have completed your training exercise?"

Lacking even the energy to glare, Robin simply nodded. Once.

"Well then, if you'd care to join us further in, we can get started on the three assessments we have scheduled this morning."

Urgh. If only her magic didn't recoil against her with depressing regularity.

Not that it made any difference, she realized as she slowly peeled herself off the ground. Her arms hurt too much to aim properly anyway.

"Here, let me help," Sumia said as Robin staggered upright. Robin tried to signal that she was fine, but Sumia bent to help her anyway. They made it a few steps before Frederick decided to be helpful.

"Sumia, if you'll ready yourself, I'll see to Robin."

Seeing to people evidently meant throwing them over one armor clad shoulder and cheerfully running through all the character building that had gone on with the day only just beginning.

Robin curled her hand into a fist, giving serious consideration to summoning Thunder—lack of spell book and magical recoil be damned—but by then he'd swung her upright, deposited her in the chair Maribelle had commandeered the day before, and was on his way back over to Sumia.

To both of their delight, a stablehand approached them with a pegasus and Quicksilver in tow. Frederick gave Sumia some instructions before they mounted and faced each other.

Robin sighed, slouching back into the chair, her gaze filled with the perfect creamy whiteness of the pegasus's coat. How dainty it appeared when standing near Quicksilver. The feathers of its wings had a pearly sort of sheen that made it look as though they'd been dipped in a pastel sunrise.

But when Sumia sat forward in the saddle and the pegasus unfurled its wings, Robin forgot about everything else. A pegasus in flight was like watching poetry in motion. Quicksilver was no slouch when it came to grace and speed, but the pegasus moved in ways that made it appear otherworldly.

And Sumia, quiet, gentle Sumia, looked like a queen from a fairy tale. With deft movements that spoke of a confidence Robin hadn't yet observed in her, Sumia swooped and flew, her bronze lance glinting in the morning sunlight.

Only when Frederick managed to repel her with a sharp flicking motion of his lance did Robin remember that she was supposed to be assessing the sparring match.

She reached for pockets that weren't there, only to remember that she'd shed her coat over by the sword post.

"Ha. Looking for this?" Chrom draped her coat over the side of the fence and held out a plate that seemed to consist of bread, and eggs, and slices of ham.

The delightful smell woke her stomach, but she held up a hand while trying to reach around him for her book.

_Thanks, but I'm—_

"Fine. I know." He grinned at her playfully. "But I won't be if you don't eat each every crumb and morsel on this plate."

She arched a brow.

"Lissa noticed you weren't at breakfast and commissioned me to see that you were properly fed." He dropped the plate lightly in her lap and leaned back against her coat to make his point.

Whatever willpower she had left crumbled at the sweetly cinnamony smell drifting up from the plate. Were these the cinnamon twists Lissa had told her about? Robin plucked one up and closed her eyes to savor the buttery bread brushed with sugar and cinnamon.

"It's incredible, isn't it?" Chrom said. Robin opened her eyes and he gestured to the sparring match. "Sumia is so much more capable than she believes."

Robin continued to eat while she watched the fight. Sumia-in-the-saddle was definitely a different person from Sumia-on-the-ground. It was as if Sumia was a purer version of herself when she was swooping through the sky in a cloud of feathers.

Chrom glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "A lot of newer recruits have that problem. A few skirmishes is all it usually takes for them to get enough experience to give them the confidence they need to reach their true potential."

Robin nodded absently. That was something she was going to have to keep in mind when she drew up her reports. She'd have to ask Frederick when each person had been recruited to give her a scale of who might need a little more practice.

Balancing the empty plate on her knee, Robin motioned for Chrom to move. He obliged, allowing her to access her writing implements. She opened her book and quickly jotted down her impressions of Sumia's skills.

Even though Sumia wasn't bonded to this particular pegasus, they still fought as a single unit, and appeared to be quite effective. It might be worth asking around to see if they could procure a riderless pegasus for Sumia until she found the one she'd bond with.

"So how have you been settling in?" Chrom asked.

Robin blinked up at him, her eyes clouded with all her questions on aerial warfare. She'd mostly studied the movements and strategies of ground troops, so she'd need to research some more after the rest of the assessments. If her hunch was correct, having a Shepherd who could fly would open up all sorts of new and interesting strategies. Why, if they—

"Robin?"

She blinked again.

_Fine. Good. Well_.

"Somehow I'm not surprised." He shook his head. "Lissa said the two of you worked on some signs last night."

_Weapons and names_. Robin lowered her gaze, suddenly self-conscious. She should have gone with Lissa's suggestion of coming up with words that they could use in casual conversations. Except she didn't really need those words to fulfill her duties. What she needed was words that dealt with smiting their foes. And names so she could better direct the smiting.

"Really?" He leaned forward. "Lissa said something about—"

"C-Captain!"

They both glanced up in time to witness Sumia dismount by way of falling off her pegasus sideways. Frederick, who must have been anticipating the likelihood of just such a spill, very nearly caught her.

"I've got to remember to have new boots made for her," Chrom murmured.

_Boots?_

He nodded. "Her boots are either too big or they're too smooth on the soles. I'm afraid I don't remember which."

Robin gaped at him. He really had no idea, did he?

She raised her fingers to ask, then hesitated. Even if she'd understood the nature of Sumia's sudden clumsiness, it wasn't her story to tell.

Unfortunately, Chrom had been paying attention. He canted his head to the side. "Yes?"

Robin grimaced. Time to practice thinking on her feet. _Does she_ want _new boots?_

Chrom furrowed her brow. "It's never really come up in conversation before. I just assumed she'd want better fitting boots."

Granted, it would be difficult to measure how you affected a person when you weren't around, but was he really that oblivious? Surely she wasn't reading too far into things.

Robin chewed on the corner of her bottom lip. No. It still wasn't her story to tell. Sumia would either find the courage to speak plainly or she wouldn't.

"Am I wrong?"

Frederick had helped Sumia to her feet. The poor girl was blushing so furiously that Robin could feel it all the way over where she sat.

They'd be over in a moment. She'd have to make this quick. Uncapping her bottle of ink, Robin turned to a blank page in her book.

_She could feel sentimental about them. Or they might be comfortable. Or any number of things. You could, of course, ask her, you know_.

Robin shoved the book into Chrom's hand as Sumia and Frederick approached them. Predictably, the closer Sumia got to Chrom, the more her steps faltered, and the less certain her balance. To compensate for this, Frederick the Wary became Frederick the Gallant. He escorted her over with her arm in his as though they were crossing polished marble instead of crushed grass and patches of dirt. Quicksilver and the pegasus followed docilely behind them.

Hmm. So she probably wasn't the only one who'd noticed . . .

"Ah," Frederick nodded at the book in Chrom's hand, "your reports from yesterday, I presume?"

Chrom raised a brow at Robin who was silently berating herself for being so stupid as to remind her superiors of the duty she'd forgotten to fulfill on the very first day she'd taken it up.

_Yes_. Robin was ever so grateful no one could hear the question in the word she'd spelled. Technically the book Chrom held contained all of her reports—or all the information relevant to the reports she'd write the moment she finished with the assessments this morning.

"Might I have them?" Frederick looked at her expectantly. "My copy, I mean."

Chrom shut the book and handed it back to her. He gave her a look so filled with pity, she nearly took him seriously. It was the laughter hidden in his eyes that gave him away.

"My condolences."

"C-Captain?" Sumia's eyes went wide. She looked between Robin and Chrom as though she could piece together whatever was wrong.

Robin waved a hand at her with the intention to calm her fears.

"I'm afraid Frederick is particular about paperwork," Chrom said in the same tone one might use if one were announcing a loved and cherished member of the family had just passed on. "He puts the court secretaries to shame. While they require at least five copies of everything, they at least allow you the use of a scribe."

They had scribes?

"But, milord, how often do you have to shuffle through reports you've written for me in order to remember what was in them?"

The expression on Chrom's face said it all.

"Precisely." On a lesser man, the half smile Frederick wore might have been mistaken for a smirk.

"Oh," Sumia giggled nervously. Then, cheeks glowing, she turned to Robin. "How did I do? I know I need to practice aerial lancework more diligently, and then there's—"

Robin raised a finger. _You were amazing_.

Unfortunately, Chrom was the one who translated what Robin had signed. The effect on Sumia was immediate. Her cheeks blazed with color and she ducked her head, murmuring something no one could hear.

"Salutations," a woman wearing a rather large hat and a pair of spectacles said as she approached them. "It is fortuitous that we are meeting this morning, as I have a number of experiments that have reached the limits of their capacity for the time being and must needs be allowed to rest. Are you ready to begin the assessment?"

"Robin, this is Miriel. Miriel, Robin." Chrom gestured to each in turn.

Miriel pushed her spectacles up on the bridge of her nose as she looked Robin over. "You are, I gather, the catalyst for the sudden bout of frenetic chaos currently converging upon the castle?"

Robin swallowed hard. She had almost forgotten the disastrous meeting the morning before.

"If by that you mean is Robin our new tactician, then yes," Chrom said. He looked perfectly solemn while he said it, so why did she get the impression that he was laughing at her?

"Well, yes. I'd better return Aurora to her partner," Sumia said. Her cheeks were still on the rosy side, but she looked as though she had mostly recovered from earlier.

"And I shall be standing by should either of you need any assistance," Frederick said.

Robin nodded before what he'd said caught up with her.

_But I thought_ . . .

Frederick shook his head. "I have no magical training to speak of. T'would be better if someone knowledgeable in the areas of magic and the arcane should stand at the helm."

Which was all well and fine. Ordinarily Robin would have agreed with him, but every time she used her magic, it bit back. Hard.

"Very well. Shall we begin?" Miriel asked. She had pressed her lips into a thin line while she studied Robin, and Robin could tell from the glint in her eye that things were not going to go well for her.

She raised her fingers to try again, but Frederick shook his head. "You will do fine, Robin. A little confidence can go a long way."

Yeah? Well so could magic burns.

Sumia was already leading the pegasus away, and Chrom gave her a cheerful smile before striding off to do whatever princes did after they abandoned their tactician.

She grabbed both tomes where she'd stowed them in a particularly large pocket _. Fine. You write report. Triplicate._

Despite Robin's less than gracious response, Frederick appeared untroubled.

"Of course."

Then, before he could mention the reports she owed him, she gestured for Miriel to precede her.

"Fascinating." Was it her imagination or was Miriel studying her like an insect caught under glass? "I had heard that you and the princess had worked out some sort of rudimentary code involving hand signals. I would, if you are amenable, like to study your fledgling language in further depth—as your time allows, of course."

Robin glanced helplessly at Frederick who might have been a stone effigy of the same for all the help he offered. Sighing, she nodded. There wasn't much else she could do.

Miriel brightened and something very like a smile ghosted itself across her lips. "Splendid. You have my gratitude. Shall we start with Fire?"

The tome already in hand, Miriel conjured a handful of Fire that danced gracefully inside her palm.

Scrabbling frantically at her tomes, Robin found the Fire tome. She couldn't think about the likely repercussions of summoning Fire. If she did, she'd loose her nerve. Snapping her tome open, she traced the runes into concentric circles.

The Fire magic slithered languidly into being, liquid scarlet and vermillion. Robin had only the space between this breath and the next to admire her conjuration before the magic snapped with a sudden ferocity, raising welts and blisters along her arm.

No white light lanced through her brain. No clap of magic made her stagger to her knees. If she hadn't been silently screaming from surprise and the initial pain, she might have been relieved.

"Robin!" Frederick's shout sliced through the shock and reminded her that she was more than slightly on Fire.

Miriel waved her hand, and the flames vanished. The same could not be said of the burns.

Every movement was an agony. Every breath coated in ash and hellfire.

Robin's hair crackled as she struggled to breath without moving. She only became aware someone was pressing something against her lips when the pain radiating from her face intensified a hundredfold.

Her mouth widened obligingly with the scream she could not give voice to. The liquid splashed against the burning, a bitter tang that forced the pain to retreat to a bearable distance.

When she blinked the tears from her eyes, Robin was startled to see a pale-faced Frederick standing in front of her, demanding to know what had happened.

"It would seem," Miriel said as she slipped an empty vial into the pockets of her robes, "that the adjustments you have made to the process of calling forth your magic have not been quite sufficient."

Robin . . . didn't know how to respond, so she focused on keeping her balance and her emotions in check. Now that the Fire and most of the pain had gone, a tangle of fear and panic trembled through every inch of her.

"Has this ever happened before?" Frederick looked a proper thundercloud with lightning in his eyes.

Robin shook her head, her eyes wide.

His glare deepened. "You are certain?"

"I believe I can ascertain the truth of the matter." Miriel pushed her glasses up and summoned a smaller Fire to dance in her palm.

Despite it being little more than a scarlet thread, Robin winced. The pain had faded, but the memory of it had not.

"Please attempt to remain stationery," Miriel said, her eyes narrowed as she studied the light pink splotches that were all that remained of the burns on Robin's arms. "This should not hurt you."

_Should not_ was far enough away from _would not_ that it took all of Robin's self-discipline not to flinch away from the bright whisper of smoke.

"Hey, what's everyone doing? Did I miss anything? I am on time, aren't I?" A hat, even larger than Miriel's materialized next to Frederick.

"While you missed the cause, you are in time to study the effect." Miriel slowly brought the thread of flame closer to Robin.

Robin could feel the cheerful warmth about it, but Miriel kept bending the flame away from her somehow.

"Aww, I always miss the important stuff!"

"Perhaps the assessment should be run between Miriel and Ricken." The words were a request, but Frederick pitched his tone into a command.

Robin raised a brow before she realized Frederick wasn't talking about the hat, but the boy under it. Now that she was looking properly, she realized he had to be younger than even Lissa.

"It's truly fascinating," Miriel went on as though Frederick hadn't spoken. "Observe how the Fire is repelled by her very presence, and yet it is twisting upon itself in its efforts to get at her."

Robin curled her fingers into her hands until her nails bit half moons into her palms. The feeling was mutual, save for the last part. Were she in charge, she would make do without both Fire and fire. Forever.

"Wow. I've never seen anything like it before." Ricken leaned in to get a better look, nearly tripping on the hem of his robe.

Was there a reason everything he was wearing looked five sizes too big?

Miriel shook her hand, and the thread of Fire shattered into sparks that melted into the air. "I believe I can state that, while adhering to reasonable conjecture, it is likely that Robin has not come in contact with Fire frequently, and possibly not at all."

"How can you be certain?" Frederick asked, crossing his arms.

"But Fire doesn't react that way to new mages, students, or even people who can't find the power within the tomes," Ricken argued.

Miriel nodded sharply. "Precisely. But do not mistake Robin for an ordinary mage. While unremarkable on the surface, there is as of yet a well of untapped power at her disposal."

Robin blinked. Had she just been insulted?

"Miriel, I'm afraid I don't follow." A little color had returned to Frederick's face, but he still left the impression that he'd swallowed a ghost.

"Simply put, Fire is as foreign to Robin's being as it is to water."

Frederick frowned. Robin tapped his arm.

_Is that why her spell exploded on me?_

He dutifully translated for her, while Miriel and Ricken watched with great interest.

"I am afraid you misapprehend the situation. My Fire was completely under my control for the duration of its existence. It was your Fire that, as you say, exploded."

Ricken glowered beneath the brim of his hat. "Aww, I miss all the fun stuff!"

Robin chewed the corner of her bottom lip while she brought back to mind each excruciating detail. With Fire, there had been no magical recoil. No disorientation.

_Can it be reasoned with?_

Miriel's eyes narrowed, and she canted her head to the side thoughtfully. "An interesting observation. Perhaps—"

Frederick cleared his throat meaningfully. "The experiments will have to wait. For now, we must finish this morning's assessments."

Robin sighed and picked up her tomes where they had fallen into the dirt. One corner was badly bent on her Fire tome, and the cover had dark sooty spots streaked across it. She dusted it off as best she could, ignoring the ominous way the pages crackled like brittle leaves.

A gauntleted hand clamped down on her shoulder.

"Not you, Robin." Frederick pointed to her usual perch. "For now you shall observe. No more, no less."

Robin's argument was on the tip of her fingers, but then she recalled the vivid images of Fire doing all it could to devour her. Shuddering, she plodded obediently over to the fence.

Frederick must have directed Miriel and Ricken, because once she was ready, they began.

Facing each other, they each called forth the power of their tomes. Magic pulsed in glyphs and runes in the space between the words. Robin watched, mesmerized as Fire turned to Thunder turned to Wind.

Something deep within her resonated with the power behind the spells, and she found herself leaning forward, breathless.

Ricken, though his size belied it, was really quite adept. Power splashed from his fingertips as he used his spells to dismantle Miriel's. He even managed, once or twice, to put her on the defensive.

Miriel's magic was elegant in its straightforward simplicity. She did not flourish. She maimed her foes through merciless efficiency. But, as she had asserted earlier, her control over her magic never even so much as wavered.

The two would be a formidable pair, although Robin worried about their defenses. Yes, they could blast anyone within their magical radius, but against many foes at a time? It would be simple enough for one to slip through their guard. No amount of magic could stop the swing of a sword or the arch of an ax they were too overwhelmed to see coming.

While Robin jotted down her notes, Frederick called for a ceasefire and announced they were due their midday meal.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she gathered up her supplies. If she hurried, Frederick need never know she'd forgotten to write her reports up earlier.

She waved goodbye to everyone before sprinting for the castle. After Lissa had hustled her out of the library the day before, Robin hadn't had time to ask the librarians if they could leave the stacks she'd organized the books into alone. Just for a few days.

Her little nook had looked long abandoned and mostly forgotten, so if she was lucky, they wouldn't have touched anything. If not, she had organized the books once, and she could do so once more.

But first, the reports.

Robin kept a careful eye on the corridors as she sped through them. Fortune must have favored her, because the only people she saw were footmen and maids.

The librarians blinked at her in surprise as she entered the library. Hoping her smile was friendly enough, she made her way over to the alcove she'd claimed yesterday.

Robin sagged with relief when the glorious stacks of books and maps came into view. They might have been neater, and the whole alcove less dusty, but they were still there.

Humming silently to herself, Robin organized her tools on the table and got to work. While doing so, she discovered a stack of fresh vellum sitting in the center of the table, while a few bottles of ink she hadn't seen before clustered together on the side.

She'd have to thank the librarians later.

As she immersed herself in her work, Robin was amazed at the sheer number of notes she had taken. Whatever faults he might find with her reports, Frederick could never accuse her of not being thorough.

Once the initial copies of the reports had been drawn up, it was a simple matter to write up two more copies.

Or so Robin thought.

By the time she was halfway through the final copy, her hand resembled a claw. She had finally been forced to abandon her efforts in order to coax the cramps out of her fingers.

Perhaps if she rigged something up. Maybe wires connecting the quills . . .

She was startled out of her daydream by a quiet gasp.

"Robin, what happened to you?" Sumia stared at her, her hands covering her mouth.

Robin looked at her in confusion. The paperwork had been brutal, but not brutal enough to inspire the horror playing across Sumia's face.

"Your . . . your hair. And your face! Have you been to a healer? What happened?"

Robin gestured to the stack of reports she'd finished and shrugged. Then, because she was curious, she scribbled her question on a clean scrap of vellum.

_I'm fine. It's my own fault, really. I'd forgotten to do yesterday's reports yesterday, and I've been told that Frederick takes paperwork protocol very seriously._

"Frederick did this to you?" Now Sumia was the one who looked confused.

Slowly and with great deliberation, Robin mouthed 'Did what?'

"I . . . think this is something you have to see for yourself." Sumia hadn't taken her eyes off Robin, but she had calmed down somewhat.

Sumia beckoned for Robin to follow her. "There's a mirror down a few corridors. I'll show you."

Robin glanced at the half finished report just as her hand spasmed. Right. Time for a break. Cradling her hand carefully against herself, Robin followed Sumia out of the library.

Sumia kept shooting nervous glances in her direction as she kept up a steady stream of polite conversation.

Half a steady stream.

By the time they made it to the corridor Sumia had been looking for, Robin was beginning to feel a little out of sorts.

"You're sure you're okay?" Sumia twisted one of the flowers she'd taken from her hair anxiously.

Robin nodded. With an unhappy look, Sumia stood aside to allow Robin a clear view of herself.

For a moment, she didn't understand what all the fuss had been about. Then she noticed her hair.

The front pieces were drastically shorter than the rest of it, and the ends of her hair crumbled into soot and ash when she rubbed them between her fingers.

And then there were the bright pink splotches of newly healed skin across her face. One eyebrow was half gone, and the other decidedly singed.

As for her eyelashes . . . They'd grow back eventually, wouldn't they?

It was when she buried her face in her hands that Robin realized she smelled strongly of campfire.

Again.

At this rate, she'd be lucky if she lasted through her first official engagement against brigands or Risen with her dignity intact.

Sumia's hand ghosted to Robin's shoulder. "You're not in any pain?"

Did mortification count? Her eyes widened as a horrible thought struck her. Would the court hold her accidental brush with Fire against Chrom?

"I can't do much about . . ." Sumia gestured to her face. "But I can help even up the rest. Your coat doesn't look damaged at all."

Some of the horribleness went out of Robin at Sumia's offer. Dashing away tears she didn't remember crying, she nodded.

"It'll be all right. You'll see. The important thing is that you're okay."

Robin gave herself one last forlorn look before she allowed Sumia to lead her away.

Neither noticed a pale figure with sea foam eyes watching them from the mirror as they went.

* * *

The first cut had been the worst. The sound of the scissors sheering away a lock of her hair had Robin wincing away from Sumia's gentle hand.

Robin gritted her teeth and forced herself to remain still. She had never considered herself vain before, and it wasn't pleasant to discover that she did care how she looked. To a degree.

Sumia eased both the conversation and her scissors around the most damaged places. Eventually Robin poked her head up from the vat of self-pity she'd been stewing in. Now that she was paying attention, she appreciated how skilled Sumia was at talking continuously about everything and nothing. The light chatter raised her spirits enough that when Sumia proclaimed herself finished, Robin didn't cringe away from the small mirror she handed her.

The face staring back at Robin had a spectral quality to it, and it took her a moment to find herself inside the angles and planes that sat differently than she remembered.

The front section of her hair was a near total loss. Sumia had cut it short enough that the fringe of what was left draped itself across her forehead with a slight curl.

But beneath the fringe, she recognized her eyes. The color of rich, dark earth flecked with amber.

Her hair had been tied back, but it had fallen over her shoulder sometime before the Fire ate most of it. The sides of her hair were a bit longer than the back as a result, but Sumia had cut the sides so they framed her face.

With a trembling hand, Robin reached up to ruffle the back of her hair that only just brushed against her collar. Her head felt lighter, freer, somehow.

"It isn't perfect, but—"

Robin caught Sumia's sleeve and waited until she looked up at her. With careful deliberation, she mouthed, 'Thank you.'

A pink blush lightly dusted Sumia's cheeks. "You're welcome. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything about your eyebrows. But if you don't mind me asking, did a healer attend to your skin?"

Robin shook her head. Her memories were a bit fuzzy on what exactly had happened, but she was quite sure she would have remembered that pleasant bliss the healing staffs created as they worked to diminish the pain.

"Hmm. A vulnerary, or a concoction maybe?" Sumia narrowed her eyes as she studied Robin's face. "I'll bet that if we have a healer look you over, they could probably heal away the worst of it. They can't do anything about forcing your eyebrows to grow back faster, so you'll have to wait that one out. I'm sorry."

Robin nodded and forced her expression into something more pleasant. The closer to herself she looked, the less attention she would draw. With that in mind, she wore her hood, grateful that it kept her face cloaked in shadows.

As Sumia led her through another set of maze-like corridors, Robin realized that some of them looked familiar, giving her a sense of where she was at.

Was that what it was to be home? To know where you are no matter where you're at?

As they walked, the familiar parts of the castle gave way to new and interesting corridors. Robin would have liked to proceed at a slower pace so she could soak in her surroundings. Not to mention all the tantalizing shapes and colors half hidden behind open doors. There were, of course many closed doors, and her fingers itched to see if they were off limits and locked or not.

It was only the thought of getting caught that kept her moving at a steady clip.

Gradually the tenor of the castle changed. It grew quieter, almost hushed, and there was a tang of herbs in the air that made her think of the liquid that had warmed away the Fire and ash.

"The infirmary is just through here," Sumia said, gesturing to a humble side door. "The healer on duty should be able to patch you back up."

The chamber on the other side of the door was more like a miniature hall that led to any number of doors—all of them shut. The center of the chamber was guarded by a rather stoic looking table that seemed to have aspirations to become a small army of desks one day.

Behind that table, Maribelle was working on some sort of needlework. She glanced up at them, a welcome on her lips that soon rounded in horror.

"Good gracious, Robin! What on earth happened to you?" She placed her needlework in a basket at her side before grabbing her staff and coming around to meet them.

If only Robin had thought to bring along the little portable desk Sumia had given her. She curled her fingers into her palms, feeling more than a little useless.

"Um, Maribelle?" Sumia gestured to Robin.

Maribelle blinked at her. "Oh, yes. How could I have forgotten?"

She retrieved some writing implements from a row of small cubbyholes on the other side of the table. With a stern look, she slid them over to Robin, demanding she explain herself.

_Training mishap. Nothing to worry about_.

"Nothing to worry about?" Maribelle was all pink ruffled indignation. "You look like something a dragon spit out. And your hair!"

"Sometimes change can be a good thing," Sumia said. There was a slight nervous quiver to her voice. "But we were wondering if you could help the places where her skin needs a bit more healing."

Maribelle stared at them as though she thought they were crazy—knew they were crazy—but was too well bred to say so.

_Thank you_. Robin pushed the vellum back to Maribelle with a little more force than necessary. If Maribelle was an accurate representation of the court, and Robin had seen nothing to indicate otherwise, she was definitely going to have to hole up in her room until at least her eyebrows grew back.

"O-of course. Sit right here, my dear."

Robin perched stiffly on the chair Maribelle had gestured to.

"Would you be so kind as to show me everywhere affected by your training mishap?" Maribelle's frown deepened as Robin removed her coat, revealing the bright splotches that covered her throat, chest, and arms.

"It's a wonder you retained any of your hair," Maribelle muttered. "Really! I'm going to have to have a word with the captain."

"I don't think this is the captain's fault," Sumia said, twisting the stem of her flower so hard that Robin was surprised it didn't snap in half.

"Of course not," Maribelle said, tracing her finger gently over the splotches as she healed them one by one. "But he has the highest command of the Shepherds, which puts him in charge. And he who is in charge bears the burden of responsibility."

"That doesn't seem fair." Sumia's gaze dropped down to the flower she had been strangling.

Maribelle straightened. "Of course not, my dear. It's life." She turned back to Robin. "That should do for now, but I want your solemn oath that you'll see to it that training mishaps of this sort don't happen again."

She might as well have been asking for the moon. None of them had expected Robin's magic to explode, so while she could avoid Fire in the future, she couldn't necessarily avoid future mishaps of all kinds.

Even so, Robin nodded. With Maribelle, there was little else you could do.

Having made her point, Maribelle dismissed them and went back to her needlework with a glower that could rival even Frederick's.

"Hey." Sumia nudged Robin's shoulder with her own. "If you like, I could read your flower fortune for you."

Thoughts of her cozy, quiet alcove in the library filled her mind. There was still half a report the needed finishing, and so many maps and books to absorb before the six days were up.

But Sumia was looking so pleadingly hopeful that Robin couldn't find it in herself to refuse. With only a small degree of difficulty, she turned her thoughts from the library and focused instead on the person standing right in front of her.

Robin smiled and nodded—making a mental note of a few more signs for her and Lissa to come up with later that night.

"All right. Just follow me!" Sumia beamed as though Robin had handed her the moon Maribelle had demanded. "I know the perfect spot for flower fortunes."

Feeling a little lighter than before, Robin followed after she pulled her hood back over her head. She'd had enough personal remarks for one day, and there were still any number of courtiers she needed to avoid.

She'd never heard of flower fortunes before, let alone had one done that she could remember. For all she knew, it could be fun.

After she was finished, though, she'd need to come up with a way to thank Sumia. And Lissa. And Chrom. And Frederick. All of the Shepherds actually. Not for the first time did Robin bask in the warm glow of having been found as she had.

She shuddered to think what would have happened if she'd been found by someone less kind, less welcoming, less . . . good.

Fortunately that was one problem she'd never have to riddle the answer out of.

"Robin?"

Hitching her coat protectively about her, Robin hurried to catch up with Sumia.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one round of assessments left! Although, to be honest, I think this round was my favorite. :D
> 
> I hadn't originally meant for the assessment this round to go so . . . enthusiasticly wrong. But once Robin had squared off with Miriel, the scene just sort of wrote itself. It was also interesting to note than no one on the field thought it relevant to mention the, ahem, effects the Fire had left on Robin. Probably a good thing Chrom and Sumia had gone by the time Robin had her 'training mishap.'
> 
> Three chapters left, and they'll be setting off for Regna Ferox. Courtly bureauocracy can really gum up the works sometimes.
> 
> *Apologies for the deluge of chapters. I’m trying to get all of the completed chapters up by Thursday evening. Starting on Friday morning, provided everything goes smoothly, I’ll be able to follow my normal posting schedule—one chapter every other Friday.*
> 
> Mirrored from FF.Net.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

_Robin stood in a hollow darkness._

_A seed whose tendrils were thickening, but not yet strong enough to crack open the walls of her prison._

_One tendril was hope._

_Another desperation._

_And somewhere in the middle was a book that had burst into full bloom._

_She wanted to snuggle back down in the dark, wrap it around herself like a cloak of invisibility. But a pale hand reached through the night, caught her own, and guided it to the flower that bloomed out from the book._

_The moment her fingers brushed against the silken edge of a petal, the flower burst into a golden light. The vines binding the book chased after the petals, weaving serpentine patterns until they, too, succumbed to the light._

_And then all that was left was her, a book, and a golden moon in the wine dark sky._

_Someone whispered her name. Softly at first, but growing more insistent._

Yawning, Robin stretched her arms toward the book and opened her eyes. Blinking the dream away, she found herself nose to nose with a blobby creature that was all eyes and a tiny gold crown.

And was that a miniature red cloak?

"Ribbit," it croaked, bunching down before springing toward her.

Robin startled away, catching hold of the nearest object and swinging it toward the creature. Frog, a distant, murky part of her mind supplied. The creature was a frog.

Bell-like laughter rang out behind her, and Robin swung around to face this new threat. Unfortunately the object she had grabbed was _Ylisse Through All It's Seasons_ , a thick tome she'd been reading the night before.

"Whaaa—!"

Lissa ducked in time, although the book clipped one of her pigtails.

"Hey!" She straightened, holding her staff out as though it stood a chance against the ancient annuals of history.

Robin, breathing hard and thoroughly awake, dropped the book on the table and sank back into her chair. She buried her face in her hands long enough to catch her breath.

"Wow! You nearly got me." Lissa sounded far too cheerful for someone who had nearly been brained by tales of the exploits of her ancestors

Didn't anyone take her seriously?

Robin shifted her hands so she could open one eye wide enough to glare at the princess who bent down to scoop up a deeply confused and thoroughly frightened frog.

"I always scare you awake, so I thought you could do with a change." Lissa had the temerity to giggle as she straightened the cloak that had been knocked askew and the little crown that had fallen over one eye.

Now that she was awake, Robin glanced about the alcove. There was something not right about it. She just couldn't put her finger on what the exact nature of the wrongness was.

"Anyway," Lissa stowed the frog away in the pocket of her apron, "you'd better get a move on. It took me a while to find you, and Frederick's probably—"

The sunlight. It was soft and golden. That's what was different!

Robin hurried to pocket her supplies and grab the stack of reports she owed Frederick. Once she finished today's reports, she could give her aching hand a rest.

"Mind if I come with you?" Lissa asked with all the innocence of a girl who kept frogs in her pockets. She was, however, a healer.

_Sure_. Robin made another mental note to prioritize their language collaboration this evening. With all the work she'd needed to get done, they hadn't been able to work on it as she had planned.

Lissa grinned at her. "I know a shortcut. Let's go!"

They borrowed a taper that was still burning in Robin's alcove, before sneaking through a door cleverly hidden behind a tapestry.

_That's it?_ Robin asked after the passage led them out into a small serving room.

Lissa just laughed and led the way out into the hall.

The shortcut, it turned out, was a secret passage one corridor down from the library. A few cobwebs littered the corners, but it was strangely free of dust for something that was supposed to be a secret.

Robin tapped Lissa's shoulder to inquire.

_Do many people use this passage?_

Lissa shook her head. "We used to play in them when we were younger, but pretty much only my family and a few trusted people know about them. Why?"

_I thought they would be dustier_.

"Ha! They probably would be, but Frederick gives them a good scrubbing every so often."

Of course he did.

Robin was beginning to think Frederick didn't sleep at all. Not much to build and hone a character in dreams.

Lissa skipped ahead of her, the gem in her staff glowing with a soft white light reflected from the dying taper Robin held. She pressed her hand against the wall. With a soft click and swoosh, the wall rotated, leaving a dark opening behind.

"Don't worry. It's just through here," Lissa assured her. "Mind your step."

Not that Robin would admit it, but something about the utter blackness beyond sent her heart racing while ice shivered up her spine.

Nevertheless, a few steps, two turns, and an iron door later had them blinking in the sunlight just off the side from the barracks.

Lissa grinned at her over her shoulder. "Last one to Frederick is a three-legged horse!"

Robin blew out the sad little remnant of her taper before tearing after Lissa. She might as well laugh now, because she had a feeling that missing her training—her fault or not—was going to engender painful consequences.

At least she had the reports finished and ready to hand over—preferably before Frederick could dole out her punishment.

She pushed herself to run faster. Her legs burned. Her lungs burned. And her hood flew off as she slid to a stop in front of the grinning princess.

Bending over to lean on her knees, Robin fought to gain control of her breath while she very firmly did not focus on the sheen of armor to the side of Lissa.

"How kind of you to join us, Robin." Frederick didn't raise his voice. He wasn't glaring or glowering. And yet Robin was fairly certain that any one of those would have been preferable to his carefully blank face and even tone.

"Don't be too mad, Frederick," Lissa said unexpectedly. "I had a bit of trouble locating her this morning, but we came here as soon as I found her."

He raised a brow. "Indeed?"

Nodding, while still huffing like the three-legged horse she'd proven herself to be, Robin handed him her reports. She winced when she noticed a few were crinkled along the edge, but she could always write out a new copy. She was still in possession of her left hand, after all.

_Sorry. I fell asleep in the library. Studying_. Robin's mind went blank as Frederick continued to stare at her. Oh, boy. She was in so much trouble. Couldn't he just yell at her and sentence her to a thousand sword notches on that stupid post and get it over with?

"Ah, fair lady and beauteous princess."

They turned as Virion swept into a regal bow. His smile, however, faltered when he straightened. Whatever ridiculous poetry he'd been about to inflict upon them died on his lips. He exclaimed something in his native tongue before steeling himself.

"A thousand apologies, my dear Robin. I'm afraid I . . ."

Hmph. She'd managed to strike him speechless. She'd have to figure out what she'd done so as to be ready for whenever he fell into lavishing insincere compliments.

Robin moved to toss her hair over her shoulder, confused when her fingers caught nothing but air. Frowning, her hand went to her head, and her eyes went wide as the memories of the day before stampeded back into her brain.

Oh.

_Oh!_

"Just great, Virion!" Lissa stomped her foot. "We all agreed we wouldn't say anything about it."

"If my lady would forgive me," Virion said as he gained his composure, "I would like to point out that I have, in fact, said nothing."

"That isn't the point!" Lissa launched into a miniature tirade that Virion seemed to take in stride.

Robin set her jaw. Eyebrows, eyelashes, hair—they'd all grow back. Chrom didn't hire her for her pretty face. He hired her because he trusted in her ability to keep the Shepherds alive.

And that's all that mattered.

"Your reports are surprisingly thorough," Frederick said, his eyes on the pages she'd handed him. When he knew he had her attention, he shifted his gaze to hers. "If you would like, I could introduce you to the template the Ylissian army once used. It makes finding pertinent information quickly a little easier.

Only when she snapped her mouth shut did Robin realize it had fallen open.

_Yes, please. I really am sorry. About this morning._

He waved a hand. "Make no mention of it. Just do better tomorrow."

Was this—was he—did he . . . ?

"Very well." Stern Frederick was back in play. "If milady would have a seat over there with Robin, we can begin Virion's assessment."

_Virion is a Shepherd?_ Robin signed. It was a relief to only have to spell out two words instead of four.

Lissa shrugged as she plumped herself down on the chair. "He is now."

Interesting. Did the Shepherds adopt all the strays they came across, or were she and Virion special exceptions?

"I really am sorry, Robin. We all decided at supper—"

_We_? She really hoped that didn't mean what she thought it meant. Not that it really mattered, of course. She couldn't hide her face forever. She'd just hoped for a little more time before the gossip started.

Lissa nodded. "Sumia told us a little and Maribelle filled in the rest. We didn't want you to feel any worse than you probably already did, so we agreed to not mention it."

Oh.

Robin fiddled with her quill while the world took on a bright, wavery sheen. They'd worried about how she might be feeling. Most of them she only knew well enough to pick out of a crowd by name.

"And Miriel's looking into whether or not she can help speed things up by magic." Lissa paused. "We were really worried about you, and when you didn't show up at supper . . ."

Robin wiped her face on her sleeve and sniffled. _Thank you. I got caught up in a tactics manual. Sorry._

"Oh, you'd better believe you're going to be sorry if you so much as skip one more meal." Lissa glowered to underscore her point before she went back to grinning. "Now let's watch Virion kill some targets."

Virion, it turned out, was an excellent marksman. Not only was he incredibly accurate, no matter the distance, he was also quick on the draw. He could draw, nock, and loose an arrow before her eyes quite caught up with what he was doing. He moved with such effortless grace he might have been in a ballroom rather than a field.

"Wow!" Lissa's eyes went wide as he emptied a quiver in rapid succession.

They were too far away to hear what Frederick and Virion were saying to each other, but from the lesser version of Frederick's normal scowl, it seemed he approved.

Hmm. Virion offered some intriguing tactical advantages, although he also brought with him a number of disadvantages. He would have to keep at a distance the entire battle, and it wouldn't hurt to create some sort of formation that allowed him to provide cover while also receiving it.

Robin was just finishing her notes when Virion approached her.

"I would like to apologize for my earlier behavior," he said with his signature bow. "It is seldom that I am caught off guard, but that is no excuse—"

Robin waved her hands.

"Robin forgives you," Lissa loosely interpreted Robin's 'It's fine, really.' "This time."

"I feel I must make it up to you. If my lady would allow, there is a delightful little pavilion I discovered in one of the gardens I would be honored to show you."

Robin shook her head. _That won't be necessary_. Virion had never extended his largest flourishes or his grandest poetry to her, and she didn't want to encourage a change in behavior now.

"She'll think about it," Lissa said, folding her arms.

"Until supper then, milady. Princess."

Robin stared dumbly after him before rounding on Lissa.

_What, exactly, was that all about?_

Lissa giggled. "Nothing you need to worry about."

_That does nothing to reassure me._

"Well, look at it like this," Lissa leaned forward. "Some people just need a little encouragement."

It was at that moment that the frog Lissa had dressed as a prince made his reappearance.

"Ack!" Lissa cried, springing for him. "Come back here, Horatio!"

Clutching her notes, Robin scrambled out of the way.

The frog, clearly terrified for his life, was hopping erratically, but fast enough to avoid capture.

"I've got to get you back to the pond," Lissa didn't quite wail. "You'll dry up out here. Or get stepped on. Or eaten!"

Horatio made one last desperate leap before he froze midair. Lissa got to her feet and collected the frog. She muttered her thanks before chastising the frog for his escape.

Robin squinted over at them. She could have sworn she saw a sheen of magic glinting where the frog froze.

"I'll be right back," Lissa yelled over her shoulder. "Let me just get him back to his lily pad."

Robin sat down, frowning. Was magic a sort of wild entity that surrounded them like air?

But when she glanced up in Frederick's direction, the magical sheen was there. Stranger, he appeared to be talking to it. Right up until the magic decided to fight Frederick!

She lunged to her feet again, not really sure how one combatted magic that didn't appear to have a mage attached to it—especially when her own magic was liable to do more damage to her than anything she aimed it at.

"It looks like you've had a fairly eventful morning." Chrom was smiling as he jogged up to her. He ducked through the slats and then leaned against the fence as he had the day before.

_You have no idea._ Robin dropped her face in her hand, only to be reminded that she was missing parts of it. Color flooded her cheeks and she brought her hood up.

"I grew up with Lissa, remember?" He laughed.

_She means well._

Chrom shook his head. "Sure. Right up until she's got a frog in her hand. After that, all bets are off. For every frog you can see, she's got at least two others hidden."

Robin gaped at him in horror. Surely he was jesting, right?

His gaze moved past hers and over to where Frederick looked as though he was sparring with himself.

"Kellam's not as fast as Frederick, but he's certainly improved since I've seen him last."

_Kellam?_

Chrom gestured to the field. "He's one of us. It's a little tricky to see him at first, but you'll eventually get the hang of it.

_Him?_ Robin's brains must have hopped off with the frog, because she couldn't see anything but the magic she'd seen earlier that glinted with sunlight.

"You have to look past him from the side. See?" Chrom angled Robin a little to the right.

She was about to ask him if he'd lost his mind when a man twice Frederick's size and dressed in full armor materialized right before her eyes.

"See him now? That's Kellam."

_He's invisible?_

Chrom shrugged. "Some of the time, but you get used to seeing him after a while."

Robin stared at Kellam, her mouth open, while her mind raced with ideas. Having a mostly invisible member of the Shepherds would bring all sorts of advantages. Why, he could slip past perimeters, waltz past guards . . .

. . . And Frederick just managed to knock him on his back.

Kellam lay still for a moment, reminding her like nothing so much as a tortoise who'd fallen backwards on his shell. Then he swung from side to side, gaining enough momentum to roll over.

Frederick held out a hand and helped him up. They said something to each other before Kellam clomped over toward them. Now that she could see and hear him, Robin had no idea how she'd missed him before. Kellam was a hulking wall of silver and orange armor.

"Good morning," he said cheerfully, his voice more tenor than the bass she'd been expecting.

Robin waved her greeting while Chrom spoke his aloud.

"You've put in some fine work on the training field, Kellam." Chrom straightened.

"You really think so?" Kellam's broad face broke into a wide smile.

"Without a doubt."

Kellam dropped his gaze and toed the dirt. "Frederick gave me a few pointers. I've been working really hard though."

Robin touched Chrom's arm to get his attention.

_His hard work shows_.

Chrom translated for her, much as Lissa had before. Kellam, now standing a little taller than he had when he'd first come over, blushed.

"I do my best."

"That's all we can ask," Chrom said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Now, it's my turn."

"Good luck, Captain. Not that you need it." Kellam saluted him before trundling off the field. Or so she assumed. After a few steps, he vanished.

Robin got a new page ready in her book. This session should prove to be interesting. Both men were formidable in their own right, and she really wasn't sure which one would be the most likely to win.

"You'll need this." Chrom tossed a wooden practice sword—this one had retained its point—into her lap.

Robin startled, nearly upending her entire bottle of ink. Carefully capping it, she picked up the sword.

_What for?_

"I need an assessment of my own." He extended a hand and helped her up.

_But Frederick—_

"Frederick filed his own report, yes. But his expertise lies in the lance. Mine is the sword." He held up his own practice sword. "And since you've decided to take up swordsmanship, it falls to my lot to see what you can do."

Robin eyed the edge of his blade. Obviously he had not seen her nearly decapitate herself when she had faced down that stupid sword post of Frederick's.

With a blunt sword.

Besides, she hadn't really chosen the sword, she'd just gone with it because she'd had one tied to her belt when she woke up. For all she knew, the sword had simple been a cruel jape fate had played upon her.

"Come on," Chrom said, tapping her sword with his. "I'm sure you'll do fine."

Shaking her head, she followed him over to where Frederick waited.

"Ought I to fetch a healer?"

Robin looked up hopefully. Yes, yes he should.

Chrom only laughed. "We'll be fine."

Frederick couldn't quite muster a smile. "Just remember what we've worked on, Robin. I'll be over on the side if you need anything, milord."

"All right," Chrom said, raising his sword and looking at her expectantly. "Whenever you're ready."

Certain she was only running toward her doom, Robin raised her sword, making sure the tip was elevated. She squared herself to Chrom, imagined he was that smug little post, and swung.

Chrom pivoted on his heel, allowing her blade to strike empty air. She twisted around, hoping to catch him off guard, but he simply sidestepped and, when she stumbled past him, gave her a little push to keep her going.

By the time Robin gained control of her balance and straightened, Chrom had the point of his blade pressed against the center of her back.

"First kill is mine." After tapping her back to make it clear that only a few moments into it, she'd already died, he backed up and readied his stance once more.

Robin consoled herself that at least the first run hadn't been as vigorous as it had been with Frederick.

"Your stance is good, but you're swinging with your arms."

Robin gave him an incredulous look before gesturing to her feet.

"Don't use your arms to swing. Did you see what happened to your stance and how easily I knocked you of balance? Use the trunk of your body to swing and rotate with your hips." Chrom nodded at her. "Again."

Trying to remember everything he just told her, Robin swung again. Chrom knocked her blade aside with his own before tapping her throat.

Robin glared at him.

"Keep your arms rigid. Your whole body should move as a unit." He demonstrated a simple swing. Well, what should have been a simple swing. Robin, despite her greatest efforts, hadn't managed to look anywhere close to that graceful.

"Again."

Robin attacked, but figuring she would miss, she focused on ducking and rushing up through his guard instead. It very nearly worked. Or, at least, she thought so. She stared up at the bright blue of the sky, the back of her everything throbbing, and the details growing hazy in her mind.

"You all right?" Chrom appeared over her and looked down at her with a little concern. He helped her to her feet. "A good move, but it could use some work. Think of your sword as an extension of yourself. Keep your arms and wrists straight, and just swing."

Hoping she wouldn't be repelled quite as enthusiastically, Robin did as she was told.

"Elbows out. You're reducing your reach and making it easy for me to slip past your guard." Chrom tapped the point of his sword over her heart.

For some reason that irritated Robin more than anything else. Setting her jaw, she ran through his instructions in her mind, making sure she had the correct stance.

Frederick had been a stoic teacher. One who had no qualms using experience, in all its painful varieties, to teach the lesson he wanted you to learn.

Chrom, on the other hand, was having far too much fun. His lessons got right to the point, so why was she floundering?

It wasn't hard. Sword point, elevated. Arms, out. Wrists, straight. Rotate hips—ha!

Now swing with her whole body, but not her arms.

Chrom brought his blade up in a parry that jarred her arms from the force of it.

"Good. Now remember, lead with the blade, not your hands."

She raised a brow at him. A sword didn't swing itself. Of course her hands would lead. That's where the movement started.

"Allow me to demonstrate. Swing at me again, just like you did before."

He was grinning. Why was he grinning?

Robin shook her head to clear it, and did as she was told. A moment later, she dropped her sword and cradled her stinging fingers.

"That was with the flat of a wooden blade. Imagine what steel, or even iron, would do."

Robin glared at him. Apparently she'd been wrong. Chrom was just a happier version of Frederick was all.

He lowered his sword and held out his hand. "Let me see."

If he whacked her to prove some obscure point about letter her guard down, he was going to regret it.

Some of her thoughts must have leaked out into her expression, because Chrom laughed before he examined her fingers.

"Believe it or not, but the pain will prove worth it. After a few times, your reflexes will begin to take over if you allow them to. Your body will sense what your mind doesn't yet grasp, and it will move to protect itself." He turned her hands over and gently moved her fingers. "You're lucky. My teacher wasn't as gentle. I ended up with three broken fingers."

Robin grimaced, partly out of sympathy. Her fingers would be a bit sore, but they were manageable. She picked her sword back up and steeled herself.

The pain had knocked her temper clean out of her. She wouldn't prevail today, or anywhere in the near future. But she could learn. And she would.

But Chrom shook his head. "While I admire your tenacity, I try not to kill any one person more than three times in one go. It's bad for morale."

Robin stared at him for a moment, incredulous. Then all the stress of the past few days—her introduction to the court, her mistakes, all the things she had to accomplish, the shame of her marred face—it all bubbled up until she was bent over double, helpless from laughter.

Her entire situation was ridiculous, and yet . . . There was nothing she'd change about it. As Chrom had pointed out a few days prior, she was who she was, and for now, that was enough.

Eventually her gales of silent laughter faded away. She swiped her face with her sleeve, feeling lighter than she had since before she'd woken in that field.

"Better now?" Chrom asked, a grin tucked into the corner of his lips.

She nodded.

The relief spreading across his face surprised her.

"Shepherds tend to settle into their place in one of two ways. They usually either buckle down until exhaustion overtakes them, or they fire through training, tempered by their determination. You're the first to laugh."

"Indeed," Frederick said, coming up behind them. He wasn't exactly radiating warm approval, but his scowl had all but disappeared.

"So, hey," Lissa said as she bounced over to them. "What did I miss?"

Robin eyed her suspiciously. Either the pond was on the other side of the kingdom or Lissa had taken an extraordinary amount of time returning the frog.

"We were just finishing up the assessments." Chrom twirled his practice sword before burying the tip into the ground.

Or, Robin inferred, that was the intention. A long crack formed from the point and ran halfway up to the hilt.

"Chrom!" Lissa giggled.

The tips of Chrom's ears went red. He stared down at the ruined practice sword as though he wasn't quite sure how it got there. "I'm sorry. I forgot."

"There is only one Falchion, milord," Frederick said with all the long suffering that came from having this conversation at regular intervals. He collected the practice swords, muttered something about adding the sword to the collection, and stalked off toward the armory.

"My brother tends to break stuff." Lissa squealed and danced out of Chrom's reach when he pretended to take a swipe at her.

"Hey!"

"But never the important stuff."

Robin just smiled and shook her head. Longing for the home and family she'd forgotten stirred in her heart. What would it be like to have someone to tease? Someone to share memories with?

"So what are your plans for the day?" Lissa asked Chrom. She clasped her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels.

Instinctively, Robin pulled the edges of her coat closer. While her memories were darkness steeped in nothingness, she was quite certain that she'd never been fond of frogs.

All of the good humor vanished from Chrom's face.

"More meetings about precautions and preparations."

_Isn't it good to be prepared?_

Chrom latched onto Falchion's hilt as though it alone had the power to save him from court.

"Yes, of course it is. It's just . . ." He trailed off, scowling.

"Just what, Chrom?" Lissa demanded, hands on her hips.

"Their preparations won't be enough. Not for what we're going up against." He gave Robin an inscrutable look. "I know the time frame you've been given has been unfair. Impossible, even."

For some reason he smiled.

"But trust me when I say there is cause for how quickly we need to pull everything together."

"Chrom, would you just spit out what you're trying to say?" Lissa crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed.

"I'm sorry, Lis. I'm telling you as much as I can." He gently pulled one of her pigtails. "A few more days, and you'll know everything in full."

Lissa groaned. "I'm a princess, you know."

"As if you'd let me ever forget." Chrom tweaked her other pigtail.

"Yeah, well," She swatted his hand away, "a princess should be told things. Things the rest of her family already knows."

"And so you will be—once you reach your majority." He made a placating gesture toward her. "Trust me, Lis. Only the heads of the houses and their most trusted advisors have an idea of what we're about to undertake. And even they don't have all the information."

_Advisors? Like your tactician?_

Robin swallowed hard as their attention turned to her. It had taken all her nerve to step forward, and she wasn't sure how much longer her courage would hold out.

If anxiety hadn't been chewing viciously at her gut, Robin would have laughed at Chrom's expression. Even Lissa looked a little surprised.

_Sorry if I spoke out of turn, but the books I've been reading—_

"No, you're right." Chrom was being inscrutable again. "I—you're just the first real tactician I've ever had, and I'm sorry. I should have realized."

"She's right," Lissa said with an underlying glee Robin didn't understand. "Robin and Frederick are the closest things you have as your top advisors. She should be going to the meetings with you."

Robin gaped at Lissa. When she'd spoken up, she hadn't meant—

"Of course," Chrom said nodding. He wore a faint frown on his lips.

Was he afraid she'd embarrass him at court again?

"I know you've got a lot of things to do to prepare, but a good leader needs his advisors close at hand."

_But I—_

"You've finished the assessments, and you've looted over half the library." Although his expression remained serious, the ghost of a smile danced in his eyes. "Besides memorizing whatever books are left, what else needs to get done?"

Robin hunched her shoulders, thoroughly regretting having spoken up. She could have passed the next few days in the peaceful quiet of the library if only she'd held her tongue.

_Inventory_.

She'd bring what resources she could with her to keep up her studies, but they wouldn't get far if they didn't have all the necessities of camp ready and accounted for.

"We can do that," Lissa said, waving her hand. "No problem."

Robin chewed on the bottom corner of her lip. _You're certain?_

"Of course I am." Lissa favored her brother with a look of mock outrage. "When I first asked to join the Shepherds, sending me to inventory the entire armory was one of the first things Chrom made me do. He thought I'd give up, but I didn't."

"No, you didn't." He gave his sister a bittersweet smile.

"So just like you can trust Chrom, you can trust me too, Robin."

It was the memory of Lissa's face when they'd returned from purchasing half the marketplace that decided Robin. Lissa didn't need to be told she was good enough—although she still needed to hear the words occasionally. What she needed was the chance to prove she was worthy to be a princess of the halidom.

_Thank you_.

Robin chewed the corner of her bottom lip. While she could readily admit that her list had been more than a little ambitious, delegating was . . . not something she felt comfortable with.

But with her new responsibilities—that were entirely her fault—there was no way she could do most of what was left.

_There is also the matter of my magic_. The words were Fire to her heart.

"How so?"

"Yeah, I thought you could do magic." Lissa made a face. "Well, not Fire. But your Thunder magic was awesome!"

Robin sighed. She opened her book and wrote out, _My problem is magical recoil and whatever made the Fire explode as it did. It's important for me to be able to use my magic without every spell recoiling or exploding. I was going to do some research, but I assume these meetings are going to take up a lot of time, so . . ._

"Miriel," Chrom said after she handed him the book. He turned to Lissa. "She's still here at the castle, isn't she?"

Lissa nodded, bouncing in place. "Yes. She was going to head out to do some research in a little bit though."

Chrom shut the book and handed it back to Robin. "All right. I'll have a word with her to see if she can come up with something."

Some of Robin's doubt must have shown through, because Lissa patted her arm.

"Don't worry, Robin. Miriel's the smartest person in the halidom. If there's an answer, she'll find it."

"Right," Chrom said as if that settled everything. "The meeting is set to reconvene right after the eleventh bell. You'll need to be there shortly before."

"Don't worry, Chrom." Lissa latched onto Robin's arm before pushing past him. "We'll have her ready in time."

We? Robin thought, then shook her head. In this case, it was probably better not to know. Besides, she'd better save her wits and attention for what was coming.

Her introduction to the Ylissian court had been a disaster. This time, Robin decided, was going to be different.

And so was she.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to go a little easier on Robin this chapter, and let her sleep in. I expected frogs as much as she did, but the poor little frog fit. Lissa doesn't have a reputation for nothing.
> 
> The assessments are finally finished. Huzzah! I figured with all the stress piling up on her, Robin either had to release some of it or break. Especially now that she gets to accompany Chrom and Frederick to the council meetings. She surprised me by asserting herself—even if she kicked herself later for doing so—and I think she's finally starting to—cautiously—settle into her new life.
> 
> Special thanks to all of you who read and/or comment. You guys are awesome! Have a great day!
> 
> Mirrored from FF.net.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

It took every bit of discipline Robin had not to sink down in her seat and bury her face in her hands.

Of course she'd reminded Chrom of her position and challenged him on one of the duties it entailed right after she'd gotten a good face full of Fire. Even without her voice, she had a big enough mouth to get herself into trouble.

Lissa, bless her, had tried. She'd even combed Robin's fringe to the side, mostly hiding the half of her eyebrow that had gone missing. There wasn't anything they could do about her eyelashes though.

At least she had her coat. It lent a certain gravitas to her presence that the demure purple gown she wore beneath it would have been unable to.

Or so she hoped.

They'd been staring at her since she'd entered the room, some openly, while others darted little bird-like glances when they thought she wasn't looking.

"And so you see, Your Grace," a lord whose hair seemed to be in a stealthy retreat from his imposing bow said, "the House of Umber can pledge only a fraction of the troops you've requested. We simply haven't the hands to spare, and we are far from being a warlike people."

Chrom shifted beside her. His brows were sharply drawn, and she could tell he was biting his tongue to let the lords and ladies have their say.

And they had only just finished with the opening remarks.

Temper and shame made her feel a bit reckless. She took a sheet of vellum that had helpfully been provided for her and wrote, _Smile, or else it'll be you who has to answer to Frederick_.

She slid it over to him as unobtrusively as she could. He raised a brow at her and then mouthed his response.

_For?_

_All those grim and grisly ends you're clearly imagining_.

That startled a laugh out of him that he valiantly tried to turn into a cough. Chrom, for all his virtues, was as good an actor as she was a swordswoman.

It was only because she'd been paying attention that she saw Emmeryn kick Chrom under the table. He coughed again and straightened, the corners of his lips twitching.

Not wanting to get him into any more trouble, Robin began sketching a map she'd been studying the night before. It showed the northernmost point of Ylisse and the southernmost part of the neighboring country, Regna Ferox. What had fascinated her was the wall that ran all along the border. It had to be hundreds of leagues long. She frowned, wondering what would possess a people to create such a thing?

And why hadn't Ylisse?

From all the maps she'd studied, they had no active means of defense along their borders. There were the mountains to the west, but the border Ylisse shared with Plegia was porous enough that the brigands could harass all the nearby towns and villages with impunity, so long as they escaped the Shepherds' notice.

To the north was the wall, but it was defensive to the Feroxi, not to Ylisse.

And then there were the harbors and the borders along the sea—all without any real means of defense should an enemy decide to attack from the water.

As for the Ylissian navy, well, she wasn't certain they'd ever gotten around to developing one. At least they'd had an army once upon a time, before all the unpleasantness with Plegia. Not that it did them any good right now when they most needed one.

"Perhaps," Frederick leaned down to whisper, "you might gain something by listening to what's being said."

Properly chastised, Robin put down her quill and folded her hands into her sleeves.

"It is not a difficult task set before us," a somber lord she recognized from the prior meeting said. What was his name? It had something to do with trees . . . "We must prioritize the monsters above the men. For all their savagery, the brigands bleed the same as we do. But creatures that know no fear of death or pain can hardly be in the same league as man."

Cedar. Pine. Ash. Ash . . . Ashford, that was it. Lord Ashford.

Robin made a hasty sketch of the man, labeled him, and deemed him sensible.

"That is easy for you to say." A lord with iron gray hair and a stern disposition stood. "While Themis has some natural defenses, they are nowhere near enough. We are being harried by both, and let us not forget that men can become monsters just as easily. Plegia has neither forgotten, nor forgiven, Ylisse's past indiscretions."

This brought a number of lords, and a lady or two, to their feet to squabble over some choice bit of history Robin hadn't encountered yet.

At least with them going for each other's throats, they hadn't the attention to spare to gawk at her.

She frowned at her map. Something about it troubled her, but what?

A few hasty lines, and there was Plegia. If they bolstered their defense on the western border, they should be able to repel the brigands with comparative ease.

But the Risen . . .

Robin's eyes widened. She studied the map for another moment or two before reaching for a clean sheet of vellum.

_Where do the Risen originate from?_ This time she didn't bother with subtlety.

Chrom's scowl deepened, and he shook his head.

"Do you perhaps," though softly spoken, Emmeryn's clear voice cut through an argument that had devolved into something concerning pigs and carrots, "have something of value to add, Chrom?"

"The Duke of Themis is correct that all the villages and towns along the Border suffer the most from brigand attacks." Before the duke in question could do more than begin to preen, Chrom went on, "But as for the Risen, does anyone know from whence they hail? We cannot hope to defend a front that has not yet been defined."

From the expressions on the faces of the lords and ladies, they hadn't considered this angle before. And now that they had, the conclusions they drew made them even more unhappy.

"They've attacked Ennys Keep once, and harried a few farms," Lady Carmine said, her bright eyes narrowed with thought.

"Yimonia has been struck thrice," Lord Rhys said, bristling his rather impressive mustache.

As the lords and ladies chimed in, it became increasingly apparent that there seemed to be no clearly defined place of origin.

"So we have one front and all of Ylisse to contend with," Chrom muttered darkly. Then Robin's map caught his eye. "What is this?"

Cheeks burning, she handed it to him.

_I was bored_ , she admitted sheepishly. Then, _Why does Ylisse have no defensive measures in place?_

Chrom's jaw tightened.

"A story for another time, perhaps," Frederick intervened. "What we must ask is how that," he gestured to the map, "may aid us in this discussion."

"May I?" Chrom asked.

Robin nodded and handed him her quill. She watched with growing interest as he marked the brigand incursions to the west, and the Risen invasion everywhere else. Chrom had the advantage so far as Ylissian geography was concerned, and the picture he painted was far from pretty.

"They're not coming from any one place. How can they . . ." He straightened as the color drained from his face. "The eye."

"Of which eye are you speaking?"Emmeryn murmured, subtly nodding toward the rest of the room as a silent reminder. Most of the nobility were entrenched in one argument or another, but not all.

Chrom cleared his throat, looking as though he had swallowed a ghost. "That night, in the forest, it looked as though a giant eye had opened in the sky. The Risen we fought fell from that eye when it opened."

To Robin's surprise, Emmeryn frowned.

"I remember you mentioning something briefly about an eye. Do you think it means anything?"

"I think it means everything, Emm." Chrom shifted in his seat, unaware that he had raised his voice and the conversations around them had begun to fall silent. "There were runes surrounding the eye, and just going off of the Risen themselves shows us that there is nothing natural about them."

"You believe a mage is summoning them?" Lord Ashford raised a craggy brow.

"I don't know," Chrom answered honestly, his eyes still on the map, "but my tactician underscored the point that we can't hope to fight them off on our own."

"A bold claim."

Robin forced herself to remain upright against the sudden weight of the court's attention. She reserved her glare for when she could thank Chrom later for reminding them of her existence.

"See for yourself," Chrom passed the map to Frederick who dutifully carried it over to Lord Ashford.

"After the last war," Chrom paused as though the memory of it pained him, "we don't have the resources to fend off attacks that are coming from every direction."

"What would you have us do?" Lord Rhys demanded. "Throw open the doors and lay down our lives?"

"We'll be doing as much if we don't find a way to combat the Risen who are attacking us from within," Chrom snapped. He clenched Robin's quill so hard that it snapped. Some of the fire went out of his eyes as he stared at the broken feather.

"We all have much to think on," Emmeryn said with a quiet authority that silenced every tongue in the room. "Let us adjourn until two bells before even."

She stood and gestured to Chrom. He rose and escorted her from the room, but not before he whispered something to Frederick.

Once the two had gone, the nobles gathered their things, chattering like a flock of agitated peacocks.

Grateful for the reprieve, Robin was just getting ready to bolt for the door when a lady she didn't recognize came up beside her.

"Ah, Lady Robin. You've gone and kicked the hornet's nest, I believe." She gestured to the nobles with her fan before snapping it open and half hiding her face behind it.

In no mood to write, Robin dropped her gaze. She wasn't exactly sorry about the points she'd brought up, so much as she was for having to be in attendance in the first place.

It was doubly irritating that she had no one to blame for that but herself.

The lady laughed. "No need for soft modesty. Rarely has Prince Chrom exhibited such passion during a debate as he has of late. It is you, I trust, that we have to thank for that."

Robin looked up, confused. Chrom did as he pleased. What had she to do with anything?

She edged back as the lady examined her from head to foot. Her lips were twisted as though she smelled something unpleasant, but was too well bred to say anything.

"I wouldn't have thought you his type, but I suppose—"

"You may suppose a great many things, Lady Chalix." Frederick appeared at Robin's side. "But I am afraid Lady Robin and I must take our leave."

He held out his arm, and once he had secured Robin, he nodded politely and guided her out of the room.

Robin didn't allow herself to breathe until they'd rounded the corner and only the footmen were around to gossip. She squeezed Frederick's arm, and when he glanced down at her, she mouthed, 'Thank you.'

"Think nothing of it. Whatever feathers I might have ruffled are a pittance to the scandal that would have arisen had you engaged in fisticuffs with Lady Chalix."

Robin blushed. He'd noticed that, had he? She forced her fingers to uncurl from her palms.

"It would seem my efforts to teach you have thus far been wasted." Frederick paused as Robin hung her head. "Lady Challix is a head and a half taller than you are, and that fan she carried was not solely for ornamentation. Her reach was greater. If you can survive court long enough, I might be persuaded to teach you how to overcome that limitation."

Robin's head snapped up, but Frederick was already looking ahead and nodding to the footman. He ushered her into a small sitting room that had a spread all laid out on a table with a white cloth.

"At last," Chrom said, jumping to his feet. "Emm thought it better for me to remain here. But I nearly—"

"Robin survived just fine as you can see," Frederick said, relinquishing her arm. He nodded at her silent question.

Robin dashed over to the table and began loading her plate. It was only when she turned around that she realized the Exalt had been seated across from her brother. She dropped a belated curtsy that no one seemed to notice.

"Thank Naga for that." Chrom let out a sigh as he sank back into his chair. "The court has too many sharp claws."

"Chrom." Emmeryn shook her head. "They are as human as anyone, and are simply striving to do their best."

"Yes, but you can't deny they enjoy sharpening their claws when it comes to new blood."

"Milord," Frederick presented a plate to him, "it might help to remember that Robin is hardly a ten-year-old boy. Although," he sent a reproving look in her direction, "her instincts do fall closer to yours than your sister's."

Chrom sat up, his interest sparked. Robin, pretending not to notice, dug into her plate with relish. The food nearly made up for the meeting.

"I trust you had everything under control." Emmeryn nibbled on a slice of pear.

"That is correct, Your Grace."

"That still leaves us with the problem at hand." Emmeryn pushed her plate to the side and turned to her brother. "Do you really believe these Risen are coming from anywhere and everywhere?"

Chrom shrugged. "I only know what I saw. If they can be dropped from the sky once, they can be dropped from the sky again."

"We must protect our people," Emmeryn insisted. She had an intensity about her Robin had never seen before, and hadn't thought possible.

"How Emm?" Chrom didn't shout. In fact, he spoke so softly that Robin almost missed hearing him. He met his sister's gaze with love and determination in his own. "We are outnumbered. The brigands, we could deal with if you allowed Ylisse to rally her people, but after the war Father waged, there's just not enough of us left that have the heart or ability to fight."

Robin nearly choked on a bite of pear as everything suddenly fell into place. Brushing the crumbs from her fingers, she opened the case Sumia had given her and put it to good use. Unfortunately she wasn't in the habit of breaking her quills, and hadn't packed an extra, so she made do with the nub. The result was messy, but legible.

_The Plegian Campaign, that was your father, wasn't it?_

The look in Chrom's eyes told her all she needed to know.

She wanted to ease some of the pain darkening his eyes, but couldn't think of anything that wouldn't end with her putting her foot in her mouth, so she moved on to the problem at hand.

_If you don't have enough people to serve, and conscription is out of the question, what about seeking aid from any allies Ylisse might have?_

"What do you propose?" Chrom was holding fairly still, but there was a pent up energy about him that seemed eager to spring forth.

_Plegia's probably out._

He barked a short laugh. "Unquestionably."

Robin frowned. The other obvious choice was Regna Ferox, but there was the issue of that wall they'd built. Surely if relations were friendly between the two countries, there would have been no need for a wall in the first place.

"Robin?"

Hoping she wasn't about to open any more invisible wounds, she sighed and scrawled, _Regna Ferox_.

"Ha!" Chrom snatched the page she'd been writing on and held it up victoriously. "This is exactly what I've been saying."

Emmeryn smiled and shook her head. "Chrom, you know as well as I that relations between our countries is delicate."

"All the more reason to bolster them now while we still can."

"Milord, there is also the court to consider. Seeking aid from the Feroxi will not be seen as either popular or prudent."

"Neither of which speak to the question of right or wrong," Emmeryn murmured, her brow creased thoughtfully. "We are duty bound to protect our people—regardless of what is popular or favored as conventional wisdom."

"Your Grace?"

Frederick and Chrom leaned forward slightly, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of her answer before she spoke it aloud.

When Emmeryn looked up, her eyes were clear and her brow untroubled. "The same sky that hangs over Ylisse stretches over both Regna Ferox and Plegia both. If we wish for a lasting peace, then perhaps it must be that Ylisse steps forward first."

"Emm, I—"

"Your Grace."

Phila entered the room, and Robin was again struck by the likeness between her and Frederick. Their features weren't similar enough to suggest familial ties, but they were most definitely kindred spirits.

"Yes, Phila?"

"News from the border."

"I see." Emmeryn stood. "If you'll excuse me . . ."

"Wait, Emm."

She turned and smiled at her brother. "I shall deal with this issue as you will have your hands full readying yourself for the diplomatic mission you will be leading to Regna Ferox."

Robin snickered a little at the stunned expression on Chrom's face. This was what he wanted, wasn't it? He really shouldn't have been so surprised when he got it.

"Frederick."

"Yes, milord?"

Chrom turned to face them, eyes bright with determination. "How many Shepherds are here?"

"All of them, milord."

"Really?" His surprise was mild, but pleased.

Frederick nodded. "With all the unrest in the air, I thought it best to call them in."

"Good. How quickly could be conceivably be on our way?"

When the room fell silent, Robin glanced up from her buttered toast, only to find all eyes on her. Her mouth went dry when she realized they were waiting for an answer. Spluttering breadcrumbs, she reached for her quill, only to remember that she'd lent it to Chrom.

And he'd broken it.

And then she'd killed what was left of it from all the writing she'd been doing.

Sighing, she brushed the crumbs from her hands and went about answering the old-fashioned way.

_Lissa is in charge of inventory, remember?_

"Right. You're going to need to touch bases with her."

Robin nodded. Perhaps, if she planned very, very carefully, touching bases could take up the whole rest of the day. It was important to be thorough, was it not?

As though sensing her hopeful mutiny, Frederick stepped forward. "Seeing how this is your first time organizing a travel itinerary, it might be better if I take point and you shadow me."

Robin blinked at him, at a loss for words. Had he really just given her a convenient and totally justified excuse to miss all of the meetings until they left Ylisstol?

_Yes_ , she signed before he realized his mistake and changed his mind. _Yes, that would be perfect_.

Frederick favored her with a rare smile. "Good. Meet me in the armory after supper. It should take no more than an hour or two to show you how everything needs to be done."

Well that was just cruel, getting her hopes up like that. Frowning, Robin pushed her plate away. Her appetite had completely gone.

Chrom sighed as he stood. "I'd better see what's required of us to serve as diplomatic envoys. We've been afforded a rare chance, and I want to make the most of it."

Frederick murmured his agreement, and then mentioned something about seeing to the broken equipment and making sure everything in their inventory was properly prepared for immediate use.

"You know," Chrom said as Robin stood to leave, "a large part of your job will entail marking out the best routes for us to travel by. I know that you're new to Ylisse, well, everywhere really, so it might be most beneficial for you to study maps and the terrain of northern Ylisse and Regna Ferox. I think the library might have some excellent resources for you."

Robin grinned at him, the broken quill forgiven and forgotten. The part of her job that required her to spend most of the day holed up in the library had fast become her favorite part.

"Milord, are you sure that's wise? We are to reconvene—"

"I'll send Lissa to collect you before the next meeting begins," Chrom said, waving off Frederick's objection.

Another hope dashed. She'd have to console herself with a war or two once she'd finished with her other responsibilities. Ooh, or maybe an uprising, although she couldn't picture anyone in Ylisse being unhappy enough to rebel.

Still, Chrom had given her a much needed reprieve, for which she was grateful.

Sketching a farewell, Robin hurried toward the library before anyone could change their mind.

* * *

"Milord."

Chrom sighed. He had hoped that the added burden of putting a diplomatic delegation properly together would have put Frederick off for a time.

He really should have known better.

"Yes?"

To his surprise, Frederick didn't answer right away. Instead, he seemed to be mentally ordering and rearranging his thoughts. He eyed Chrom as though weighing something without being sure the scales had been tipped in his favor.

"Court was always going to be difficult for her."

Chrom frowned. Frederick would receive no disagreement from him. He hadn't intended to introduce Robin to the iron-edged niceties of court quite so soon. He'd wanted to give her more time to settle into her role, but she had stepped up to her responsibilities, and he couldn't have refused her request.

"And yet," Frederick fidgeted, something he rarely ever did, "you chose her anyway."

"I did." Chrom waited. Frederick had never abused his position, so when he felt strongly enough to voice his concerns, Chrom listened. They might not agree—although he was certain Frederick would eventually come around in regards to Robin—but he always took his advice into consideration.

"Do you think her able to hold her position, to prove herself before court and crown?"

Chrom's answer was immediate. "I do."

"She has no anchor to her past. No home to speak of, and no family."

"None of that matters." Chrom ran his thumb along Falchion's hilt, frowning. "Robin has proved her loyalty, and if we give her time, she will find her stride at court."

Frederick inclined his head. "Provided she doesn't provoke a war with the higher court, I'm inclined to agree. With permission to speak freely . . ."

"Granted." Although it drove Chrom a little crazy, requesting permission to speak his opinion aloud when it ran counter to Chrom's was a tradition Frederick had stubbornly clung to.

"I believe you are being a little short-sighted, milord. Family, home, the past, all those things matter."

"The court holds no sway over the Shepherds." He had made sure of that. The Shepherds were to be a protection to the people, not a political pawn to be manipulated at the court's pleasure.

"It was not of the court to whom I was referring." Frederick bowed his head as he always did when he expected Chrom to work out the answer for himself.

The problem was that Chrom knew the answer, it was the reasoning behind it that eluded him.

"Robin."

"Indeed."

"She has a place here," Chrom argued, pacing the length of the small chamber. "My sisters have accepted her. The Shepherds have made her one of our own. And the court, well they haven't sent her to the stocks or requested she be pilloried, so I believe we're safe on that count."

Frederick gave him a disapproving look. "If you recall from your early days, what was it that gave you the will to fight and the determination to win, no matter the odds?"

"Emm. Lissa." Chrom's expression cleared as understanding took hold. "Ylisse. Home."

"Precisely, milord. Robin has a place. The Shepherds will, in time, become her family. What she most needs now is a home."

"But she has that here." Chrom gestured to where she'd sat. "She knows that."

"There is a difference between knowing a thing and _knowing_ a thing, milord." Now that Frederick had said his piece, he relaxed his stance. Well, insofar as Frederick ever relaxed anything. When Chrom had been much younger, there were a few years where he'd suspected the maids had starched Frederick along with all his proper, and highly uncomfortable, suits.

"This is a delegation we're preparing for, not a pitched battle."

"No, but the likelihood of us encountering Risen or bandits along the way is not inconsiderable."

It would have been nice, just once, for Frederick to be wrong.

Chrom stopped pacing and sighed. "I'll speak with Emm and Lissa later this evening. As for the other, once we return, we must make it our top priority to train any who would learn to defend their homes and kin. It won't be enough, but it will give us a decent start."

Frederick canted his head. "You still intend to speak with your sister?"

"I don't really have a choice." Chrom curled his fingers around Falchion's hilt, seeking the strength that he always found in its touch. "As quarrelsome as the court can be, even they will see reason in reinstating our army. It is my hope that the war might be a short one, but it is coming no matter how much we may wish otherwise."

Frederick studied Chrom's face, keenly aware of the promise he had made to the queen so many years ago. There was nothing of the late exalt's zealous fanaticism in his eyes, only a desperate desire to protect all those he kept under his wing.

In this case, the entire country.

"As you say, milord. You must have faith in your sister. She will do the right thing."

"I never doubted that." Chrom felt the silent burden he carried shift a little. "I just hope that the shadows of our past don't prevent her from doing so in time."

* * *

"Miriel! Wait up!" Lissa huffed as she ran to catch up with the mage.

Miriel stopped and turned, an inscrutable look on her face. Then again, most everything connected to Miriel was inscrutable.

"Where-where are you going?" Lissa's sides burned right along with her lungs. It was amazing how fast people in pointy hats could move when they had a mind to. Was it the hats that gave them the extra oomph or the determination of their purpose?

"I am overdue in observing the possibility of changes taking place within an experiment I have been running over the last year." Her spectacles glinted with sunlight, but Lissa liked to imagine it was magic that turned the lenses silvery white.

"But the castle's in the other direction," Lissa said, pointing back the way she'd come.

"A fact that, while welcome, is irrelevant to the matters I must attend to." Miriel readjusted the strap of her pack she'd slung over one arm while pushing her spectacles up on the bridge of her nose. "If you would state your purpose in detaining me, I would be most appreciative."

Lissa blinked at Miriel. For a long time, she had believed that all pointy hats talked like they were regurgitating ancient tomes, but—so far as she could tell—Ricken talked like a normal person.

"Uh . . ."

Miriel made a small sound of impatience. "Put plainly, what do you want?"

"Oh." Lissa grinned at her. "Chrom needs your help. Well, it's more like Robin needs your help, but he's the one who's asking. Oh, and did you ever find the spell you were looking for?"

"I think," Miriel said after a moment's silence, "that it would be most beneficial for you to start at the beginning."

Lissa nodded and took a deep breath.

"Remember when Robin's Fire exploded?"

Miriel's lips went thin with disapproval. "The correct term is recoil. Fire is generally not in the habit of exploding."

"Explode, recoil. Same difference," Lissa said. Miriel's lips were now a pale, thin line, but she ignored the mage's irritation and went on, "Did you ever find out about using magic to regrow Robin's eyelashes? She'd like to get them back as soon as possible, and to figure out what's causing the recoil and put a stop to it if she can."

Lissa rocked on her heels when Miriel's gaze went distant. She'd learned the hard way that this meant Miriel was riffling through all the well-ordered corners of her brain, and that it was better not to disturb her until she was finished.

Pointy hats all had a tendency to get cranky when their thoughts were interrupted.

"I did indeed look into the issue. It would be inadvisable to use magic as a catalyst in repairing Robin's eyelashes, as it was magic that destroyed them in the first place.

"As to your second request, it shall require further study. There are some things I will look into once I return."

"You're still leaving?" Lissa asked, surprised. "But we need your help here!"

Miriel closed her eyes as if gathering the ragged ends of her patience together. When she opened them, she had that same stony look in her eye that Frederick got when he was about to be intractably stubborn about something. Usually it involved character building somewhere.

"It is vital to my research that I observe and gather information that is critical at this juncture. Unless the castle is about to come under direct attack, I'm quite certain that Robin is capable of abstaining from all magical use for a few days."

Lissa opened her mouth to argue her point, but she really couldn't fault Miriel's reasoning. After what had happened with the Fire spell, she didn't think there was any danger of Robin coming anywhere near Fire magic.

Ever.

"Well, will you at least talk to my brother before you leave?"

"Do you believe a conversation with your brother is absolutely necessary?" The way Miriel stood there, not exactly glaring, was incredibly reminiscent of Lissa's tutors and their insistence that she learn Ylisse's history inside and out. And sums. So very many sums.

Lissa nodded. "Chrom probably wouldn't say it out loud, but he was pretty shaken up over the whole thing. He wanted to ease Robin into things, and instead spells are blowing up and the court's being, I dunno, courtly or something."

Miriel's lips twitched a little, and she nodded. "Very well."

"Thank you, Miriel," Lissa said, perking up now that her mission had been accomplished. She eyed the pack Miriel had slung over her shoulder. "If you'd like, I could have Cookie put a hamper together for you while you're talking with Chrom. Something to cheer you on your travels."

"I'm not traveling far," Miriel said. When Lissa's face fell, she cleared her throat, adjusted her spectacles, and went on. "However, I would be most grateful for your gift so graciously given."

"Really? I'll get right on that then. Chrom's probably hiding in the barracks somewhere." Lissa beamed at Miriel before sprinting for the kitchens. If she hurried, there might just be enough time to add some of the desserts for supper this evening to the hamper.

It was a small thing, making sure Miriel not only had something better to eat than the bears that seemed to have invaded every forest in the halidom, but to have a reminder of home.

That's what Emm did for every noble, dignitary, and citizen—rich and poor alike—who crossed paths with her. Lissa didn't yet have that special something that worked to bring a tangible sense of peace into being, but _she_ knew where Cookie hid the best treats.

And she knew how to get them.

Once she was done overseeing the hamper, she could get to work on her other mission. Maribelle won too many of their challenges than was good for any one person, and Chrom was _her_ brother. It was only right that she succeed in this one, and she already had the advantage.

As smart as her brother was when it came to hitting things until they stopped being a menace, he was never going to be won over by subtlety.

Which was where she came in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus ends the last council meeting for a while! *confetti* The Feroxi don't really favor preening with words. Something tells me that at least a few *coughmorethanhalfcough* of the Shepherds will approve of the Feroxi approach.
> 
> The characters really made me work for this chapter. On the plus side, I got to finish this chapter after I wrote the next one. I think I found my second favorite scene, so it was worth the extra work.
> 
> But, hey. The stars finally aligned for Robin and food. She's learned the valuable lesson that you should never be without at least one spare quill. And, yes, Frederick sees all. (And no, the maids never starched Frederick along with the linens. They didn't have to.)
> 
> Thanks again to all of you who stop by and/or comment. You all brighten my day tremendously!


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.
> 
> Mirrored from FF.net.

The next few days passed in a bustle of meetings, preparations, more meetings, and early morning training with Frederick and that stupid sword post Robin had come to hate with a resigned kind of loathing.

It didn't matter how hard she practiced, she still clipped more edges than were deemed acceptable and missed enough times that her arms and shoulders felt like she'd been playing with her Fire tome.

Repeatedly.

There were, however, worse fates. One of those was being required to attend meetings where the heads of the noble houses could bicker and fight with each other, because it was easier to argue than it was to give a name to the monstrous fear that lurked beneath all the pomp and bravado.

The brigands had been one thing. Enemies, to be sure, but made of flesh and blood as they were. The Risen were a completely different thing, and one that no one could really agree upon how to handle.

The only thing that kept Robin sane—despite Frederick's assurances that if she paid attention, she was sure to learn something—was making Chrom laugh at least once per meeting. More, if she could get away with it.

When she could, she snuck away to the library. The librarians, bless them, had preserved her little alcove. They dusted and kept her in ink and vellum, and—most importantly—they left the stacks of books and maps and papers alone.

In return . . . Well, she had very little to offer them in return, so she worked at keeping things tidy and putting the books back once she had finished with them.

Robin yawned and stretched, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes and dispel it from her bones. The last meeting had been brutal, so she'd unwound by reading a particularly lurid account of two houses of Ylisse that had warred with each other for one hundred years. Those same houses were still at odds with each other, but contented themselves by throwing taunts and graciously worded insults at each other when they were sure no one else was looking.

How far the mighty had fallen.

She had just gotten to the part of a battle that was 'a wasteland of bodies,' but the words kept swimming and she was having trouble remembering how she got there.

Something about pies.

Possibly.

Or was it chickens?

"I thought I might find you in here."

Robin jerked awake, and the only thing that saved Chrom from getting a face-full of history was that the bottle of ink was closer at hand.

She stared, horrified, at the large splotch of ink on his chest. Dark rivulets bled down his tunic, determined to ruin his entire suit.

_I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. I didn't realize . . ._ Her fingers moved frantically as she fought to piece together something resembling coherence.

"Well." Chrom swiped at the ink splatters that had freckled his face. And hair. And cape. "Your reflexes are pretty sharp."

Robin dearly wanted to bury her face in her hands, but she couldn't quite bring herself to look away.

"Robin," he said softly. "It's just ink. It'll wash out."

Which went to show how much Chrom knew about ink or laundering clothing.

"You've been working hard and you look exhausted," he tried again.

She shook her head and gestured to stacks of books and maps she still needed to go through. She had exactly one day left to learn as much information as she could.

And to see how many of the books the librarians would allow her to travel with.

_No more so than you._

In the interest of having something productive to do, Robin picked up the book she'd been reading. Not that she'd be able to concentrate. Her nerves were taut and ready to spring, and her thoughts ran in circles.

There simply wasn't enough time—

The book vanished abruptly, leaving Robin to blink at her suddenly empty hands. Chrom shook his head and tucked it under his arm.

"No more reading for now. I'm afraid I have very specific orders concerning your whereabouts."

Robin folded her arms and glared at him.

Impervious to her mood, he pulled out her chair and tugged her to her feet. "Come now, it won't be that bad. Sunshine and fresh air will do you a world of good."

Being left alone to the quiet peacefulness of the library would do her an even greater good. The set of Chrom's jaw, however, told her he wouldn't be moved. So she'd go out, drench herself in sunshine and fresh air, and hope she could escape before she drowned.

Robin straightened her coat, secure in the knowledge that she always came prepared.

"I'm afraid I'm going to need _all_ your books," Chrom said, holding out his hand. He looked perfectly serious, although the corner of his lips twitched.

Not bothering to hide her exasperation, Robin gestured to the book he'd already confiscated.

"Robin, you may not have been here for long, but even I know that you always have a book or ten stuffed into your pockets."

She narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head.

Drat! She was going to have to be more careful in the future. If even Chrom had noticed, then—

"Robin."

With far less grace than she ought to have shown a member of the royal family, Robin placed seven of her nine books onto the table.

Chrom raised a brow. "Is that all of them?"

She meant to nod. What was he anyway? The book inquisitor? Nobody was going to die if she kept a few books tucked away on her person. Yet there was something in his eye, a light or a gleam, she wasn't sure what, only that she couldn't lie to him.

Glowering, she slapped the last two books into his waiting palm.

"Very well. Shall we be going?"

Robin followed Chrom, feeling almost naked without the reassuring weight of her own personal library. It took a surprising amount of discipline to leave them all behind.

At a loss, she shoved her hands into her pockets. The rough carving of the bird she'd started a while ago nipped at her fingers.

"I know you don't enjoy the outdoors as much, but my sister wanted to speak with you before we leave."

Robin frowned. It wasn't that she disliked the outside world. It was more that all her favorite things were inside. On shelves. In the library. How could sunlight compare to history? Battles waged and won—or lost—that determined the destiny of a people?

All of those lives, lived and loved and lost. Most didn't even rate a mention, while others became mere footnotes in history. Yet they were all as real as she. They had their own hopes and secret dreams tucked away where nosy historians couldn't find them. Some things were too sacred to be turned into letters and then paraded past strangers in sentences or paragraphs.

Speaking of . . .

Why couldn't Lissa speak with her personally if she had something to say? Wasn't she coming with them? And why send Chrom, who likely had a thousand important tasks of his own to attend to?

"Ah, Robin. It is good to see you. I hope all is well."

Robin snapped out her thoughts, her gaze meeting the Exalt's. She curtsied to hide her bewilderment. Where had Chrom led her? Why hadn't she paid any attention? And, more importantly, had he marked her place before shutting the book he'd snatched from her? Had she?

"There is no need for such formality here," Emmeryn said, gesturing to the seat across from her. "Please, be seated."

Robin perched on the edge of her seat, taking in the table that had been set for a light meal and the teacups that looked absurdly delicate in Chrom's hands.

So, not Lissa then.

Her fingers fluttered uselessly in her lap while Emmeryn continued with the pleasantries of polite conversation. Eventually her hands returned to her pocket where it bumped up against the unfinished carving once more.

Nodding and pasting on a smile, she eased the carving and her knife out of her pockets.

"How are you finding Ylisse?" Emmeryn asked over the edge of her teacup.

Robin froze. The first thing she was going to do once she was free was to see if she could have a strap attached to the little desk Sumia had given her. Then, once she put it on, she was never going to take it off.

She looked to Chrom uncertainly, but he nodded in encouragement.

Placing the knife carefully in her lap, Robin signed, _Good. Very well_. Only remembering after she'd done it that Chrom didn't know anything about the signs she and Lissa had come up with to replace spelling out some of the words.

"I'm glad to hear it," Emmeryn said, beaming at her. Then, when Robin's brow furrowed in confusion, "I've asked Lissa to teach me the language you have been creating together."

Robin's surprise must have shown, because Emmeryn laughed. She placed her teacup back on the table and folded her hands.

"It is my wish that all in Ylisse might have a voice, and that I might have the means to hear them." Emmeryn exchanged a look with Chrom, quiet, somber, and grim.

Chrom scowled down at the teacup he hadn't touched after he'd drained it in a single gulp.

Robin's instincts warned her away from whatever it was that had passed between Emmeryn and Chrom. She rubbed her thumb against the rough surface of the carving.

_Ylisse is lucky to have you_.

"It is I who am lucky to have Ylisse."

Chrom made a noise in the back of his throat, but otherwise kept silent.

Robin nodded and avoided making eye contact with anyone. She preferred to unravel her history from books. It was much less messy that way. Having nothing else to occupy her hands, she picked up the knife and went back to carving as quietly as she could.

"Chrom, would you please ensure that all is in place for your smooth departure on the morrow?"

"Of course."

Robin sighed and slipped the knife and carving back into her pocket. Had Chrom really dragged her out of the library just so the Exalt could inquire about her health?

As she moved to stand, Emmeryn put out a hand. "If you don't mind, I have a few more things to discuss with you, Robin."

Chrom turned back. "Emm?"

"I'll return your tactician to you shortly," Emmeryn said. Yet beneath her words, Robin could sense a thread of reassurance.

She studied Chrom's expression. Did he have concerns over her? Why would he need—?

"Right." He turned to Robin, "I'll see you at supper."

Then in a swirl of bone-white cloak, he was gone.

"I do not mean to alarm you," Emmeryn said, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "I wish only to speak with you, not as the Exalt, but as a sister."

The bottom of Robin's stomach dropped out. They'd received the bills from town, hadn't they? She never should have allowed Lissa to spend so much on her behalf. Or was this about Chrom? Had she somehow disgraced him without knowing it? Well, besides the after effects of a face full of Fire . . .

"As the Exalt, I must ask you to travel with wisdom and prudence. The mission to Regna Ferox is a diplomatic one, although the road leading to your destination will be fraught with danger."

Ah. The Risen. Robin retrieved the carving and whittled in the suggestion of feathers.

"But as a sister," Emmeryn looked Robin in the eye, her own suspiciously bright, "I must implore you to keep my brother and sister from harm."

_Of course_.

And with that reminder, the mountain settled itself back on the curve of her shoulders.

"Ylisse needs them. And I—I need them too."

A grim pall settled over her, and Robin slipped the carving back into her pocket lest she sheer off a wing. She had read of loyalty and honor, of sacrifice and the nobility that came from serving something larger than oneself.

But she had never truly understood until now.

Gathering herself up, Robin stood. _I swear to you that I would lose my life before I allowed harm to come to them_.

"Thank you." Emmeryn dropped her gaze. "I am afraid my selfishness has been unfair to you, but I could not send them off without speaking the words of my heart."

Robin flicked her fingers out to catch Emmeryn's eye. When she was sure she had it, she signed, _My duty demands no less than you require of me._

"There are many at court who question my brother's judgement," Emmeryn murmured. "But they will come to see as I do. In choosing you, he chose well."

Robin's cheeks warmed and she focused on her hands that had quietly been strangling the edges of her coat. It hardly seemed fair to be praised for something she hadn't done yet, and in doing, would only be acting to fulfill the duties she'd accepted along with her title.

As though reading her mind, Emmeryn went on, "Which brings us to the issue of your title. Traditionally, the title of tactician is given to one who has proven themselves by advancing through the ranks of the military. Ylisse has no military at present, thus we must advance you through the second path."

Robin raised her brow, unsure whether she should be on her guard or not. If it involved the court in any capacity, then it would probably be more trouble than it was worth.

Emmeryn smiled with a far away look in her eye. "There is an old hamlet nestled in a valley of rolling hills. It is small, with only a few families, mostly shepherds, and a one or two farms."

The memory of the place was obviously a happy one, but Robin had no idea why Emmeryn would bring it up now.

"I have spoken to my brother and sister, and they are in agreement that the land should be given to you."

Robin sat down hard. Land? For her? What on earth was she supposed to do with it? And people?!

"There shall be papers that must be witnessed and signed, and a ceremony if you wish it."

Robin's eyes widened. No, she most certainly did not wish it. She didn't know the first thing about any of the nobility, and she wasn't sure she cared to. She didn't even have a potted plant to look after, and yet if she had, it would surely be dead from neglect by now.

"While small, your holding will afford you the title of a lady. Which will, in turn, legitimize your place as tactician to the Shepherds. None shall then have standing to contest your place."

The pressure in her chest told her she'd forgotten to breathe, but Robin didn't have attention to spare for such trivialities.

"The papers and official documents will need to be dealt with tonight so that you may leave with the diplomatic mission on the morrow without any doubts clouding your future."

Robin blinked, surprised when the world came back into focus. She touched the cold tracks of tears running down her cheeks, wondering. She couldn't remember when the tears had formed. Or why she was crying in the first place.

_I don't deserve any of this_. Her fingers spoke before her mind had half caught up with them, yet she couldn't disagree. She had done nothing to merit such kindness.

"Robin."

_There must be something I can do. Something I can—_

"I fear you are being too hard on yourself, but if you feel you must offer something in return, all I ask is for you to keep my brother and sister safe." Emmeryn canted her head to the side, and she nodded at Robin's right hand. "And a bird."

A bird? Robin looked down, surprised to find herself clutching the carving she'd been working on.

"Any bird you please, but I should like for it to be flying."

Robin shut her mouth, not quite daring to believe her good luck. Because once she did that, the bad luck would be sure to follow.

Instead, she vowed to create a whole flock of birds for Emmeryn, each with wings of wood poised for flight.

* * *

 

Robin had hardly closed her eyes before Lissa woke her.

She blinked groggily at the princess who giggled something before scurrying off to wake everyone else.

At least there hadn't been any frogs this time.

Yawning, Robin sat up. The world outside her window was gray with mist. The moon had not fully set yet, nor had the sun started to rise—although it seemed to be considering it.

She got dressed quickly, the cool morning air raising goosebumps on her arms. It felt strange, slipping into the first clothes she ever remembered wearing, but skirts were highly impractical for travel. She had one or two in her pack, but those were for after they'd finished traveling.

Bowls of porridge were already waiting on the table when she stumbled into the dining hall. She waved her welcome to the others before gulping her breakfast down. If she'd eaten any slower, the strange fluttering in her stomach would have probably interfered with her digestion.

It was only after she'd shouldered her pack and trudged toward the training field that Robin realized that she was leaving home for the first time.

_Home_.

The word sank into the dark abyss, warming the seed that had been growing there silently. Her heart was warm inside while the rest of her shivered in the cool morning air.

Spring had only just started to arrive in earnest, and it was taking its own sweet time.

"Good morning, Robin." Frederick looked disgustingly refreshed and awake, despite her certain knowledge that he'd retired to sleep after she had.

She gave him a half-hearted wave before settling herself at the base of a tree. They were still a few Shepherds short, so they weren't quite ready to leave. Although they'd have to leave soon if they wanted to avoid any awkwardness with the court.

Emmeryn had announced the night before, just as the final meeting for the day had closed, that she was sending a diplomatic delegation to secure good relations between Ylisse and Regna Ferox. Then she'd sweetly adjourned the meeting before any of the nobles could protest.

Robin did not envy Emmeryn this morning one bit.

Speaking of . . . Robin pulled out her carving and began whittling the wood away in neat little curls.

"What I don't get is why you need Teach to go along," Vaike said as he tested the edge of his ax. "I mean, I know you need all the good looking gents you can get, but the Vaike shines best when there are heads to knock together."

"You are a Shepherd, Vaike," Frederick said with a kind of long-suffering that had Robin nodding sympathetically. "And as such, you are slated to be a part of the diplomatic mission."

"That's another thing. The Vaike ain't some weak-muscled small fry that needs words to solve things. Just show me what heads need bashing, and I—"

"The point of diplomacy is to avoid bashing each other's heads." Frederick pinched the bridge of his nose, no longer quite so chipper.

"Hey!" Lissa scampered over to them. "Isn't this a beautiful morning? Everybody ready to go?"

Robin just shook her head. Morning people would ever remain an utter mystery so far as she was concerned.

"And a beautiful morning it is," Virion said as he met up with them. "Though the day is outshone by such lovely ladies all gathered together."

"Speak for yourself, Ruffles."

Sully and Sumia were the next to arrive. The latter greeted each member cheerfully while the former's glower was matched only by her horse's.

Ah. Sully was a kindred spirit then.

"Words don't last long," Vaike continued. "Now a fist to the face, those northern barbarians are sure to remember."

"B-barbarians?" Sumia paled.

"Warriors are what they are," Chrom said, striding toward them. He gave Vaike a firm look. "And what we need."

"Milord."

How could Frederick muster the energy to stand at attention before the sun had even risen?

Yet a curious thing happened. Everyone straightened a little, even Robin. Well, until she realized what she was doing and slumped for emphasis.

"This is an important mission. Normally my sister would be the head of a diplomatic delegation, but with how things stand along the border and the Risen popping up all over Ylisse, the people would worry should she leave Ylisstol."

"Which is where we come in," Vaike said, grinning.

"Right."

"Then you can count on Teach."

Sully snorted. "What happened to wanting to bash heads in?"

"The Vaike is willing to talk. And if that don't work . . ." He hefted his ax suggestively.

"At least you brought your ax this time," Lissa said, her hands on her hips.

"Hey! That was one, maybe two, times! Teach is always prepared."

"What about you?" Chrom murmured as he came to Robin's side. "Are you ready?"

Robin thought of all the books waiting to be read in her alcove. She was hardly ready, but all she had done to prepare would have to suffice.

_Yes_.

"Good."

"Um, C-Captain?" Sumia stood next to them, tugging on the ends of her hair.

"Sumia?"

She kept her gaze firmly on the ground, her face pinched and unhappy. "Are you sure you want me to come along? I mean, this is an important mission, and I've only been a Shepherd for a very short time, and I—"

"I'll not force you to come if you wish to remain, but I think it would be a good experience for you."

The corners of Sumia's mouth remained stubbornly downturned. "But what if I get in the way?" She clutched the shaft of her lance hard enough to turn her knuckles white.

Chrom eyed her for a moment. "You could always hang back if battle is met, but there are some things that can only ever be learned on the battlefield."

"Y-you're certain?" She dared a little glance upward before she blushed and ducked her head again.

"Just stay by me, and you'll be fine."

All the scene needed was for a shaft of sunlight to fall on Chrom, and it would look like an illumination from the book of fairy tales Robin had snuck in between warring houses and marking out the route they would take.

"Yes!" The color in Sumia's cheeks darkened. "I mean, yes, I'll do that, sir!"

"Have no fear, milady, for I shall make it my personal mission to ensure no harm befalls you." Virion flourished a bow before kissing Sumia's hand.

She giggled nervously. "Th-Thank you."

"And me!" Kellam appeared next to Sumia with such suddenness that everyone but Frederick startled.

Sully muttered a curse. "Don't you know it's bad manners to sneak up on folks?"

"What? I've been standing here the whole time," Kellam protested.

Chrom just shook his head. "All right. It looks like nearly everyone's here. We've a long march ahead of us—"

"Wait for me!" Stahl cantered up to them, his hair in complete disarray. "I'm sorry I'm late. No one called for me, and then Miriel sent word that she's been delayed, but she'll meet up with us shortly. Ricken and Maribelle are also unable to join us at this time. And, uh, Maribelle sends her personal regrets."

"Vaike!" Lissa shook a finger at him. "You were supposed to wake Stahl. You said you would wake Stahl! How could you forget?"

The warrior rubbed his neck and avoided eye contact. "The Vaike never forgets. I just, uh, don't always remember, is all."

"You'd forget your own name if you weren't always saying it to yourself," Lissa growled, looking like a little ray of sunshine that was about to hurl lightning. "Just make sure you hold on to your ax."

"Hey, Teach is loaded and ready for action. And Righteous Fury is too!" Vaike shook said ax before turning to Stahl. "Sorry about that, buddy, but it's good to have you here."

"Not half as sorry as I am." Stahl dripped with melancholy. "I had to hurry and missed breakfast. But I could smell it! There was porridge and muffins and cakes—"

Frederick cleared his throat and gave Stahl a pointed look. "You are certain Miriel will be able to find us?"

He nodded. "She said something about . . . Well, I really didn't understand half of what her message said, but she mentioned some kind of location spell."

Despite the inhospitable hour, Robin perked up. If there really was such a thing as a location spell . . . The possibilities made made for some interesting strategies.

"Right," Chrom said with a nod. "We'll have to have faith in Miriel's abilities. In the meantime, we have a long march ahead of us, so we might as well begin."

Robin shook the wood shavings from her lap and slipped her carving into her pocket. The strange feeling she'd had all morning jittered in her gut. They were doing it. They were really leaving Ylisstol.

And then the halidom.

"Are you okay?" Sumia fell in step beside her as they followed Chrom across the field and over to where the wagons holding their supplies waited. "You're looking a little pale."

Robin nodded, and then pulled the little desk around to her front and hooked it to her belt. She hadn't been able to find a suitable strap for it before they'd had to leave, so she used a sash that had come with one of the dresses.

_Ylisse is all I can remember. It feels strange to leave it. I'm just glad we won't be gone long._

She gave the vellum to Sumia, coloring at all the splotches of ink. Being able to write while she walked was definitely going to take some getting used to.

"I feel the same way." Sumia handed the sheet back and gestured to their surroundings. "This is the first mission I've ever gone on, and I've never really left home before. Well, Ylisse, that is. I had to leave home to come to Ylisstol."

_Will you miss it? Your home?_

Sumia looked down, the suggestion of a frown tucked away in the corners of her lips and the furrow of her brow.

"Very much. But I'll always carry it here." She put a hand over her heart. "So that I'll always have a piece of home with me no matter where I am."

Robin frowned as she considered her own heart. Was it really so simple?

Chrom and Frederick spoke with the folk who had volunteered to drive the wagons while Lissa fussed over everyone like a mother hen.

"Look, I've already told you. The Vaike and Righteous Fury are joined at the hip, er, you know what I mean!"

"You know," Sumia spoke so quietly, Robin nearly hadn't heard her, "even though you might not remember it, I'll bet you carry a piece of your home in your heart too."

Robin raised a brow. She hadn't really considered such a thing, and yet it made sense that one's home would leave an indelible mark on a person.

Even if they couldn't remember what that mark looked like.

She shifted her hold on the sash, acutely aware of the purplish marks on the back of her right hand. She'd taken to wearing fingerless gloves or long sleeves that she could hide the tops of her hands in. But those marks were always there.

Were they a part of her home? Or were they something else entirely?

Whatever they were, the thought of them sat like a stone in her belly.

"All right everyone, let's head out," Chrom called.

Relief replaced the dread as Robin shoved her worries to the side and focused on the here and now.

All the mounted Shepherds served as a vanguard, with the infantry coming next, and the supply wagons following behind everyone else.

In a fortnight's time, provided they met with little to no misfortune, they'd be staring at a stone wall that nearly stretched across the entire continent instead of green plains and gentle hills.

Regna Ferox was rumored to be a very cold place, so Robin had been sure to include heavy cloaks and blankets with the provisions. Hopefully, now that spring was starting to gain a toehold, all the extras she'd included on her inventory list would be overkill.

They followed a road made of stone that led north—once they passed through the gates leading out of Ylisstol. Away from the city. Away from the castle. Away from h—

She scratched her right hand absently as she tried to picture what a land carved out and tamed by barbarians—or warriors, depending on which history text one read—was like.

"Sumia," Lissa popped up seemingly out of nowhere, "I was wondering if you'd read a flower fortune for me."

Sumia's startled look warmed into a smile. "I'd be happy to." She glanced along the road they were following. "I just need to find some—"

"Flowers?" Lissa asked with such bright innocence that Robin turned a wary eye to look for likely places she might have hidden some frogs.

"Yes. I'm afraid that they're a lot harder to come by this close to the city." Sumia shook her head. "In a few weeks—"

"Don't worry." Lissa latched onto Sumia's arm and began to lead her toward one of the supply wagons. "I've got you covered. There's a whole bundle of flowers over here."

Sumia stumbled helplessly in the direction Lissa was dragging her in, and a moment later, they both vanished around the side of the wagon.

Robin stared after the two, wondering what on earth had just happened. She straightened her collar and held it close. _Please, whatever crazy stunt Lissa had up her sleeve, please don't let it have anything to do with frogs._ She shuddered at the memory of the "frog prince" Lissa had used to wake her up.

"Hey Robin." Stahl turned his mount so he rode beside her.

She raised her half brow at him and waved. Had she made a mistake in placing their cavalry in the vanguard? It had made sense at the time, but perhaps she ought to have had one on either side of the supply wagons . . .

"Er, Robin?"

She blinked up at him, marching formations flowing through her mind's eye. Shaking her head, she motioned for him to go on.

"The Captain would like to have a word with you, if you don't mind."

Robin's smile wobbled. She had made a mistake somewhere, she just knew it. It must have been a serious one if it needed to be rectified before they'd even left the city.

"Are you all right? You look like you've got a sour stomach."

Robin nodded that yes, she was fine. Then, making use of her desk, scrawled, _I'll be on my way then._

Stahl furrowed his brow, but didn't comment other than to let her know he had something that would help her stomach if she needed it.

Hanging her head, Robin allowed him to escort her up to the front of their line. What had she overlooked? What had she failed to plan for or take into account?

She was so busy fretting that she didn't notice she'd arrived until she nearly walked into Chrom. Executing a hasty sidestep, Robin managed to avoid the collision. She caught her balance faster than she had before, and was pleased to see that at least some of her training was paying off.

"Robin, good, you're here. How are you at climbing?"

Somehow this was not at all how she imagined the conversation going.

_Climbing?_

"Milord means trees," Frederick said. He wore a neutral expression that was hard to read, but it lacked the air of disapproval she'd grown accustomed to.

_Trees?_ No matter how hard she wracked her brain, she couldn't come up with a logical scenario that involved Risen or bandits and trees. That went double for diplomatic delegations.

Chrom nodded as though they were having the most sensible conversation in the world.

A number of responses marched dutifully through her mind. In the end, Robin went with the one that flourished a little more than the others.

She crossed her arms. _You're asking the amnesiac if she knows how to climb trees?_

A light dusting of color warmed Chrom's cheeks. "Oh, I . . ."

_I know as much about my abilities as Frederick does._ She paused _. Less, actually_.

"If you're going to go, milord, now would be the time." Frederick glanced back down the line. "At our current pace, we should meet up with you half a league or so beyond the northern gate."

"Right." Chrom seemed to have made up his mind. "Shall we go?"

_Go where?_

"There's something I want to show you. It's a little complicated to explain."

Relieved that her fears hadn't been realized, Robin decided to take a risk and follow his lead—even if it did deviate from her carefully mapped out route.

_All right_.

"Take care, milord. Robin. We'll keep watch for you once we pass through the gate."

Robin only had time enough for a quick wave before she had to sprint to keep up with Chrom. Her shorter legs were going to be a disadvantage for the pace he set.

Ordinarily she would have reminded him that not everyone was built like giants, but she bit back her complaint and focused on lengthening her stride. Beyond their current mission, as a Shepherd, she would be doing a lot of traveling.

Better to accustom herself now, and hopefully increase both her speed and stamina, than to regret wasted opportunities later on.

"There's a place, a shortcut, that my sister and I used to take when we were younger." Chrom paused long enough for her to catch up.

Curse her for ignoring Lissa's suggestion for coming up with conversational words. Contrariwise, Robin had no idea what to say to that even if she'd had the words.

Schooling her expression into something pleasant, she nodded to indicate she was listening and to thank him for slowing his pace a little.

A wispy kind of bittersweet fell over his face. "There's a small footpath once we clear this hill. Emm and I used to race each other to see who could reach it first."

_Where does it lead?_ She didn't remember any small paths being marked on any of the maps she'd poured over.

The sweet left his face, leaving only the shadow of bitter. "Back then, I suppose it led to my father. Coming or going, the path leads to a small rise that affords a clear view of the northern gate."

Robin focused her gaze on the ground in front of her. Memories of his father clearly pained Chrom, so why was he bringing one up now?

_I'm sorry_.

Chrom nodded once, keeping his eyes focused on the land before them.

They made good time once they arrived at the footpath. It cut an almost direct path through to the gate. Although it was quicker, she could see why Chrom had stuck with her route. Many places she came across were little more than a suggestion of a path, none of which would have been wide enough to accommodate a horse, let alone a convoy of wagons.

They had stopped once or twice for Robin to catch her breath, so when they stopped at the top of a small, wooded hill, she didn't expect anything more than another short rest.

"And now," Chrom looked more like a mischievous boy than a stern, respectable captain, "we climb."

He gestured to a tree crowning the rise. Robin studied it for a moment, reminded herself that she was here to take chances, and then nodded.

Climbing a tree, it turned out, was easier in theory than in practice.

Chrom, being the gentleman that he was, waited for her to ascend first. Which would have been fine if she'd been able to reach the lowest branches.

After a number of fruitless attempts, she finally bowed her head in defeat.

_Unless you can find a way to bring the tree to me, I don't think this is happening_.

"I think it might be easier to bring you to the tree," he said. That edge of sorrow still darkened his eyes, but he was valiantly struggling to keep a straight face.

He knelt down on one knee and cupped his hands to form a kind of stirrup the way she'd seen some of the grooms do to aid those too short to heave themselves into their saddle on their own.

Signaling her thanks, Robin placed her foot and braced herself for what was to come.

"Ready?" Chrom asked.

No. No, she wasn't. Who in their right mind would ever be ready to be thrown into a tree?

Taking a deep breath, Robin reminded herself to trust Chrom.

_Yes_.

She'd hardly signed the word before he tossed her lightly up among the lowest branches. To both her delight and surprise, Robin caught hold of a branch and managed to get on top of it without being impaled or brained.

"Good. Now see if you can climb a little higher," Chrom called.

Robin tucked away her delight, but couldn't quite contain her wonder. There was something truly exhilarating in the simple act of reaching for the sky between leaf and bough.

Although her limbs seemed to know enough to scale the tree quickly and without the danger of falling, nothing about the movements felt natural or familiar.

"You're just about there," Chrom called. "Three branches up, if I recall correctly."

How he could tell exactly where the spot he was aiming for was located in the tree, Robin didn't have the faintest clue. Still, he'd gotten them this far, hadn't he?

Humming silently, but happily, to herself, she concentrated on climbing the last little bit. Though she'd been skeptical, she knew the place when she found it. Someone had woven ribbons through the branches while someone else had built a small platform integrating the tree limbs into something that looked sturdy enough to sit on.

She had three guesses as to who.

Once Chrom made it up, there was just enough room for them to sit side by side.

"That's the northern gate of Ylisstol," he said, pointing to a gate made of the same white stone of the castle itself. Even though there was distance between them, Robin could make out enough detail to see the woman with long, flowing hair carved into the gates.

"We'll pass through them a little later, but this is the best part."

Almost as if the watchmen at the gate had simply been waiting for him to speak, a horn blared and the doors of the gate slowly opened. Whether by magic or something as mundane as good timing, the moment the gate was clear, the sun burst up from the horizon in a shower of gold and magenta and a hint of orange.

The sunrise was reflected along the ridges of the gate, echoing the blues and fading gray of the sky. But the whole thing was rimed with the gold-white of early sunlight, making it appear, for the moment, as though it had been lit by a heavenly flame.

Robin's breath caught in her throat and fluttered in her chest. She didn't think she had ever seen anything half so lovely before in her life.

"Emm and I would come to this place whenever we could sneak away from the castle. We'd wait and watch for the grand retinue that meant our father was coming home." He stared off into some long past memory, the light of the sunrise warming his eyes. "Ylisstol didn't feel like home when he was gone. We didn't learn until later what sort of exalt he was, but at the time he was simply Father and home."

_Thank you._ Her fingers traced out the meaning her heart was too full to find the words for.

It had hurt him some to tell her the story behind the perch he and his sister had built as children, but there had been a trace of sweetness as well. Robin had not really given much thought to who her own parents might have been. She hadn't had time to do more than tend to the occasional longing for family that cropped up every now and then. Now, as she stared at scene playing between earth and the sky, she felt her lack acutely.

"I wanted to show you this," Chrom said, halting over his words and keeping his gaze locked on the horizon, "to give you a piece of home. Something to hold onto and remember while you're away. And something to return to."

Her throat became fire and her eyes glassy with tears she would not let fall. For only a moment, that deep, empty darkness inside was filled to overflowing, and Robin spent the next several moments remembering how to breathe.

Once she recovered, she found herself entirely devoid of words. But it didn't matter. Sometimes there were moments when words were unnecessary and would only get in the way.

"We should probably be on our way," Chrom murmured. "Frederick's estimation is on the ambitious side."

Robin nodded, regret at having to leave beating in time with her heart.

Then she made the mistake of looking down.

The blood drained from her face, and everything else was blocked out by the sound of her own racing heart. Her hands went cold, and she might have been breathing. Or maybe not. She really couldn't tell.

Robin sat frozen for an eternity before something took her by the shoulders, breaking the spell long enough for her to hear the whisper of her name woven through the beat of her heart.

"Robin? Are you all right?"

She thought she turned her face toward the voice, but all she could see was the sheer drop and how small the ground looked.

Then the world started to sway as the platform they'd been sitting on jittered beneath her.

"Robin," the voice insisted. "I'm going to loop your arms over my shoulder. I think it goes without saying that you're going to need to hold on tight."

Her stomach swooped dangerously as the world tilted and tipped, and she clung to something soft and white that smelled of sunshine and wind.

"Don't panic, I'm just going to hook your boots through my belt."

She squeezed her eyes shut and tightened her hold. If she had had a voice, she was sure she would have been screaming, especially when she felt the brush of leaves against her cheek as they moved. Even so, she gave her silent screams her level best, and her throat was raw with them long before they reached the ground.

Her mind knew the moment they hit the ground with a kind of bone jarring thump, but her body refused to listen to reason.

"Robin, you can let go now. We're safe. On the ground." The voice sounded a little winded.

No, not a voice. Chrom. It was Chrom's voice.

The recognition gave her enough power to pry one eye open long enough to conclude that, yes, they were on the ground and no longer in danger of plunging to their deaths.

Robin's arms shook, and she realized belatedly that she'd been clinging to Chrom's back like a purple, human-shaped pack he'd slung over one shoulder to hang crosswise across his chest.

Heat scorched color into her cheeks, and she let go with a suddenness that had her tumbling backward.

By now she was accustomed to bumps, and her awkward landing didn't trouble her much. She stared up at the sky and waited for her heart to stop hammering itself against her rib cage.

"So," Chrom drawled once the terror had all but drained away. "Not fond of heights, are you?"

No. No, she was most definitely not. Her fingers were only starting to come back to life, so she let her glare speak for her.

Chrom had the temerity to chuckle. "Lissa used to have that problem. She loved to climb, and always forgot about how high she was going until it was too late. She spent much of her childhood stuck up in a tree and the odd shelf."

By now, Robin was feeling more like herself and less like a quivering blob of fear.

"She'll find comfort knowing she wasn't alone." Chrom didn't quite smirk, but it was close enough to split the difference.

_Yes, well, you are going to give me your word that we are never going to speak of this again_.

His grin widened. "Speak of what?"

She nodded. _Exactly_.

Chrom shaded his eyes with his hand and looked toward the northern gate. "I think we're going to have to make a run for it if we want to meet up with everyone else on time."

Yes, the last thing she needed was for Frederick to grow concerned for his liege. He already left no stone unturned as it was. Besides, Robin would gladly run her feet off if it meant she never had to climb anything ever again.

"Ready?"

She nodded.

"Then let's beat Frederick to the rendezvous." Chrom gave her a crooked grin. "I know a shortcut."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they're off to Regna Ferox!
> 
> This was my second favorite chapter to write, mainly because of the tree scene. While I was writing it, part of my mind was going, 'Aww, they're having a moment.' Which Robin promptly ruined by looking down. And yet there was something kind of delicious about a proto-Demon Death Dragon who's named after a bird being scared of heights. Totally unplanned, but awesome enough that it'll come up again later on. (Sorry in advance, Robin.)
> 
> Good thing Chrom is strong. And has a sense of humor. He's probably going to need it.
> 
> A special thanks to all you who read and/or comment. You all are awesome!


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.
> 
> Mirrored from FF.net.

The short cut was fairly straightforward, and they made excellent time. Despite the blisters she could feel throbbing into existence from all the running they'd done, Robin's spirits had lifted considerably since she'd stumbled out of bed.

Of course, being wide awake might have had something to do with it, but not all. For the first time since she could remember, that constant quiet ache in her chest was now little more than an occasional murmur.

"We did it!" Chrom grinned with a boyish air. "I can't believe we beat Frederick here."

Robin, willing to forego the dignity of her position, collapsed under a tree off the side of the road, content to wait for her breath to catch up to her. The rumble of wagon wheels could only just be heard when she put her ear to the ground, which meant they'd barely managed to beat Frederick.

As it to confirm her conclusion, the great knight crested the hill, gleaming in the sunlight as he led the Shepherds onward.

Chuckling to himself, Chrom sat beside her and leaned against the tree trunk. "That was quite a run. I didn't realize you had it in you."

She flicked her fingers at him. _What is a league or two compared to training with Frederick every morning?_

That she hadn't died halfway through their run only served as a testament to how quickly training with a merciless—probably immortal—paragon of knighthood could increase a person's stamina.

If she was being completely honest with herself, Robin only felt half like dying at the moment, which was a win in her book.

Chrom shook his head. "You haven't truly lived until you've died during one of his Fanatical Fitness Hours."

This was the second time she'd heard mention of it, and she raised a finger to inquire before deciding some things were better left unknown.

"You're doing fine, Robin, and you've come a long way with your training." His expression was completely serious, but the hint of laughter in his tone made her suspect he was thinking of their first battle together.

_Don't make me throw my sword at you_. She rolled over and sat up, bracken and leaves crowning her hair, giving her the appearance of a wood sprite.

Chrom laughed as he got to his feet. Frederick must have sighted them, for he and Quicksilver were nearly upon them.

"At least you didn't behead the statue of one of the oldest exalts in the halidom during your sister's coronation."

Robin perked up as she followed suit. But rather than giving her any details, he raised a hand in greeting as Frederick reined Quicksilver into a canter and then to a stop.

"Milord." Somehow in the moment between one blink and the next, Frederick had dismounted into an impeccable bow. He straightened, his eyes flicking in Robin's direction. "Robin."

_Frederick._

"Were you beset upon by rogue trees?" He wasn't exactly scowling at her, but there was a definite whiff of disapproval in the air.

Robin's eyes widened, and she looked to Chrom. Only a few days ago she had learned that dragons existed, was she now to learn that the halidom was home to sentient plants?

"You value punctuality." Chrom shrugged. "So we hurried."

"Yes, but officers of the Shepherds and advisors to the prince of the halidom have a duty to remain presentable at all times. Imagine if we were entering, rather than leaving, Ylisstol."

Before Robin could demand an explanation, Chrom plucked a leaf from her hair.

Conceding his point, but unwilling to lose her good humor altogether, Robin flipped her hood neatly over her hair, covering the worst of it.

"That wasn't what I—"

"Peace, Frederick." Chrom gestured to others as they finally caught up. "Your march was uneventful, I trust?"

"Much less exciting than yours." He sniffed as Robin finished brushing the bracken from her coat, but dropped the matter. He turned back to Chrom. "On the whole, we've made good time."

"We couldn't have done it without you, Frederick." Chrom said. As he moved past Frederick to greet the others, he murmured, "Thank you."

"My duty is my honor," Frederick replied.

Robin narrowed her eyes. It was a very Frederick thing to say, yet it really made no sense. Surely leading their merry band on a mostly stone path out of the city wasn't something that merited that sort of response, both in the gratitude in Chrom's eyes and the satisfaction softening Frederick's scowl.

Which promptly went away when Frederick noticed her watching him.

"As a high ranking officer of the Shepherds, it would behoove you to dress the part."

Robin tugged on her cuffs defensively as he eyed her coat. Just let him try to make her wear some old fusty Ylissian uniform. Her coat, despite being of dubious origin, would pass the Shepherd's uniform regulations. She'd checked a few times, just to be sure.

Her coat made her feel taller, and therefore bigger. Which, in turn, kept her marching forward with her hair full of leaves instead of hiding inside one of the wagons.

_I am_.

He crossed his arms and raised a brow.

Rather than give him any more reasons to think her unfit for her station, Robin shrugged.

_Camouflage_.

"Camouflage?" Frederick blinked.

Robin gestured to the trees lining both sides of the road. Then, when he continued to stare at her blankly, she signed, _To blend in with the trees._

"You want to blend in with the trees?" From his baffled expression, Robin decided that a retreat was in order. No sense in working against herself.

She nodded. _Always be prepared, right?_

Sketching a salute, she hurried to find Lissa or Sumia before he regained his composure well enough to tell her off for insubordination or . . . something. Robin still hadn't worked out who had the higher rank between them—although Frederick definitely had the seniority—and she wasn't too keen on finding out right then.

Maybe after she proved she was more than just another amnesiac with a nice coat.

"So, where'd you go?" Lissa bounced over to her, all smiles. "We looked for you after Sumia read my fortune, but I had a lot of questions."

There it was again, that painted innocence that promised there were frogs lurking about. Robin glanced over her shoulder at Chrom and Frederick who were discussing something with Sully and Stahl.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Chrom lacked the temperament, Fredrick was too honorable, and while Lissa might be conspiring to do something, at worst that just meant Robin was going to have to remember to search her bedroll before she went to sleep.

"Well?" Lissa bounced on the balls of her feet, her eyes wide as saucers.

_A tree_. Robin's stomach went slightly sour at the memory. _To see the gates_.

"What did you think?"

Hmm. Lissa didn't seem surprised. Maybe Chrom showed all the new Shepherds the view. It really was quite striking.

_It was_ . . . Her mouth went dry as she remembered the way the whole world had swayed and the leaves that had brushed past her cheeks as Chrom navigated the way back to the ground. _Lovely._

Lissa leaned closer, her eyes narrowed. "Are you okay? You look a little green in the face."

Robin pasted on a smile. _I'm fine_ , she lied. But it wasn't really a lie. She was fine. Now.

"Sure you are," Lissa said in a tone that implied she'd be keeping a close eye on her. Then she latched onto Robin's arm. "Come on. We saved a few flowers for you, and Sumia said something about wanting to redo your fortune for some reason."

_But we're getting ready to resume our march_. Robin dug her heels in. She'd done her best to forget her first fortune, and wasn't all that eager for a second round.

And poor Sumia . . .

Robin shook her head. Flower readings, at least so far as she was concerned, did not improve morale. And everyone knew poor morale led to poor outcomes, which resulted in increased casualties—

"All right, everyone," Chrom called. "We've still got a lot of ground to cover, so let's get started."

"Phooey," Lissa muttered. "Next time we stop for a rest, then."

They traveled another league or five without any trouble. Lissa regaled Robin with tales of her siblings when they were younger while Robin worked on another carving. Something to go with the bird.

The land became increasingly hilly, with more and more trees congregating in clumps not quite large enough to call a forest. As the morning warmed up, more and more birds fluttered overhead, their calls lost to the creak of wagon wheels and clusters of conversations.

Robin frowned at her carving, turning it this way and that, trying to decide whether it was going to come out as a lion or a dragon, when her hand began to burn.

Wincing, she pocketed her carving and peeled back her glove. Her mouth went dry, and for a moment she was back up in the highest limbs of the tree, teetering on the edge of a bough.

The marks on the back of her hand were glowing with a sickly violet light.

She jerked her glove back on, heart pounding in her head. Lissa was in the middle of retelling a story that involved Chrom, Vaike, Sully and a flock of geese, and didn't seem to have noticed. A quick glance told her that no one else was close enough to have seen.

So why did her shoulder blades ache with the weight of an unseen eye?

Because she was looking around, Robin noticed when the vanguard came to an abrupt halt. She narrowed her eyes. Something was wrong.

Tugging on Lissa's sleeve, she gestured for her to stay put. She didn't wish to alarm anyone if turned out that she had an overactive imagination, so Robin walked only a little faster than normal.

With each step, her hand burned a little more.

She reached Chrom just as Frederick finished speaking. The knight looked a little grimmer than usual, but that could have been due to any number of reasons. The least of which might have been the general untidiness of the foliage.

"No! The Risen have already spread this far?" For only the merest of moments, Chrom looked stricken as he glanced back the way they'd come.

Robin hid her traitorous hand in her pocket. There was no time to worry about it now, not with Risen hiding round the bend. The burning was only a mere irritation, after all.

"Risen?" Vaike came up from behind them, scratching his head.

Chrom nodded, his gaze distant before snapping into focus. "The name the council decided on for the dead men that have been brought back to life."

Robin tapped Chrom's shoulder. _Where?_

"Not half a league hence," Frederick answered. "They've infested the old parade grounds."

Old parade grounds? Robin mentally sorted through the various maps she'd committed to memory, but she was fairly certain she hadn't seen any such place marked on the maps.

"So, wait. We've got dead people wandering around?" Vaike looked less than impressed. "What are you all afraid of? That they're going to ooze on you or something?"

"Idiot," Sully said, taking a swipe at Vaike, who nimbly dodged out of the way. "Think about it, if they're dead, they aren't worried about getting killed, and they sure don't feel pain."

"Ugh! Not these things again!" Lissa, along with the rest of the Shepherds, crowded around them.

While the rest grumbled, fretted, and asked questions, Robin stepped off the road, hunting for a suitable stick. Once she found one that was sturdy enough, she pushed through the press of people—carefully staying out of Brazen Thunder's range—and handed it to Frederick.

She gestured to a soft spot of ground that was mostly dirt. _What is the lay of the land? How many are there?_

To her surprise, Frederick accepted the stick and hastily sketched out what he had seen.

"The old parade grounds are where the army used to gather to train, hold court, and host challenges. It also served as a barracks for the troops whenever they gathered in this part of Ylisse."

Robin's eyes widened as she made sense of the simple map he'd drawn. The landscape was little different from their present position. Hills and bunches of trees. Two forts defended a bridge, and once one crossed over, there were two more forts on the far side.

"Their troops are gathered here, here, here, here, and here. There are likely to be more in the forts themselves."

Robin frowned at all the X's Frederick had made. Of course they had all hunkered down in the best defensive spots. For being dead, they could certainly strategize well enough.

She rubbed the back of her right hand through the glove.

No, that wasn't quite right. Just because they'd been placed in strategically strong positions, that didn't mean they'd be sentient enough to hold formation. Or, for that matter, be smart enough to stay where they were.

Her mind went back to the missing back palisade. A living person would have seen that weak point and exploited it. And while the strongest Risen had made use of it, the main force had persisted in attacking the fort from the front.

_We need to lure them out. Separate them from each other, and cut off their retreat_. Not that the Risen they'd dealt with thus far had been concerned about retreating, but Robin wanted to be sure she didn't overlook anything. They were going to have to spread out thinner than she would have liked, especially since she would be directing their movements.

"You have a plan?" Chrom asked her as he led the others over.

"The beginnings of one," Frederick answered, frowning down at his map.

Grateful for her desk, Robin readjusted the sash and hooked one end of it to her belt. She opened it for a sheet of vellum, a bottle of ink, and her quill.

_If these are the same type of Risen as those we fought before, we can use their own patterns of movement against them. If we lure them out of their defensive positions, we can surround each smaller group, and ensure that none survive to retreat._

Robin chewed on the corner of her bottom lip. She still hadn't quite worked out a system for directing the Shepherds, so Chrom would have to be her voice in the meantime.

_Some of the texts I studied mentioned something about signals. They'll be able to see you best, so I'll need you to signal the movements until we work out some better way._

Chrom's brow furrowed while he read what she had written, but when he finished, his expression cleared into hard determination. "Show me what to do."

Trying to ignore her hand, Robin signed, _The others need to learn the signals too._

Chrom nodded and called them all to attention.

Drawing her own sword, she held it up with the blade angled forward.

_Advance._

She held it at the same angle, but rotated her arm so it extended straight out from her right side.

_Advance to the right._

Helping the blade aloft, she crossed it over her body to the left.

_Advance to the left_.

Chrom nodded. "Seems simple enough."

Robin raised the sword above her head, but held it parallel to the ground.

_Rally to me._

Then she held it vertically over her head and made a stirring motion.

_Retreat_.

Chrom scowled at the last signal.

_You may, of course, also shout the orders_. Robin sheathed her sword and pressed her hand against the back of her right hand. It dulled the burning, but not enough to find true relief. Once this was over, she was going to have to break down and ask Lissa to take a look at it.

Chrom ran through the signals on his own, and once he was sure he had them, he relayed them to the others. The system wasn't perfect, but it would have to do for this battle.

_We'll come in from the left_. Robin pointed to a dense section of trees on Frederick's map. _Swing up and to the right, before swinging left again._

_If they fail to move, we will spear them from the left and move to the right in tight formation. Do not chase them alone, especially those in or near the forts._

While Chrom relayed the orders, Robin mentally went through three more back up plans in case the first two failed.

"The Risen feel no pain, and they do not fear death. You must strike fatal blows to keep them down. A lance to the gut will only annoy them. Sever the spine and move on to the next. Remember what we're up against, and you should be fine."

"Oh, they'll remember me," Vaike laughed, "once I drive my ax into their . . ." A funny look crossed his face. "Wait! My ax. Where's my ax? I had it a second ago."

"Vaike," Chrom said, sternly "this is no time for japes."

"But I'm serious! It's gone, but I just had it. It's got to be around here somewhere!"

The Shepherds shifted while Lissa groaned and Sully muttered something about morons.

Chrom closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, he drew Falchion. "Keep to the rear then. The battle is nigh!"

Without wasting another word, Chrom led them around the bend in the road and toward a particularly dense thicket of trees.

The wagons hung back. The drivers had been armed, and they held their weapons competently, if a little tightly. Not that Robin could blame them. She'd gone up against these things, and there were still parts of her mind that didn't believe they existed.

"Right, now listen up—especially those who brought their weapons." Frederick spared a pointed look at Vaike that was totally wasted as the warrior was searching the nearby underbrush for his ax. "Remember your training. Swords have a superior reach to axes, so long as you aren't going up against hand or throwing axes."

Robin moved to stand next to Sumia while Frederick carried on with his weapons outline.

She touched Sumia's shoulder and handed her a note. _You going to be okay?_

"What? O-of course." When Robin raised a brow, she crumpled a little. "Its just that I've never really fought before. Never had to kill anything. And I—"

Robin held up a hand, and finished writing her response. _Don't worry, Sumia. Just watch. Learn their movements. Think of ways to counter them. For now, I need you most to guard Lissa._

Frederick would more than likely be hovering nearby to protect the princess, so that should cover both of them. And, if she was lucky, inject some much needed confidence into Sumia. Maybe once she saw how the Risen worked, some of her fear would melt away.

That was Robin's hope, anyway. Besides, it couldn't really count as killing if their foe was already dead.

"All right then. Everyone ready? Robin, with me!"

The butterflies in her stomach all turned into raging little dragons as they stepped into the first clearing.

A myrmidon stood on the far side, nearly blending in with the trees. He hadn't spotted them yet, hadn't even looked in their direction, but that was certain to change.

By how much was the important question.

Had the Risen set up a perimeter? And if they had, were they positioned to overlap so that if one was alerted, there would be at least two more who noticed?

She shook her head. Now was not the time to fall to pieces. There'd be plenty of time for that after they won the skirmish.

Robin tugged on Chrom's cape.

_Stahl and Kellam to the left. Sully, Virion, and Frederick to the right. Everyone else to the center._

"You think there will be more on the right side?" Chrom murmured.

Robin shook her head and shrugged, then pointed to the tight clump of trees bordering the left. _Trees and horses—_

That was as far as she got. Someone behind them stepped on a twig or something that cracked resoundingly loud in the relative silence of the clearing. The myrmidon's head snapped in their direction, ruby eyes glowing brightly.

Chrom relayed the orders and then charged the myrmidon. Robin scurried after him, heart pounding in time with her footsteps.

They met the first of the Risen at the midpoint in a clash of silver and violet, with the others fanning out behind them. Chrom swung his sword faster than thought, and though the myrmidon managed to twist fast enough that Flachion's point found its kidneys rather than its spine, it wasn't fast enough to dodge an elbow to the face.

It staggered back while Chrom ripped his sword from its side. And, in a blur of silvery light, he twirled his sword around and sliced the Risen cleanly through the throat.

It vomited purple smoke as it moaned. Then, before its head hit the ground, it dissolved into the air.

They didn't have any time to celebrate, however. Just as Robin had feared, three more Risen approached. One from the left, two from the right. All of them lancers.

"Remember to aim for the fatal blow. Make it the first, if you can. And make it count!" Chrom raised his sword to give the signal to advance.

And then he was off again.

It was only after Robin crossed the clearing—side and lungs burning—that she realized she had drawn her sword.

More Risen materialized by the minute, most coming from the right side. There was a slightly different quality to them. Like those before, they weren't overly concerned about any wounds that weren't immediately fatal, yet there was a little more calculation in their charge. They weren't quite the mindless killing machines from before.

Robin grimaced as the burning in her hand settled into a deep ache. She tightened her grip on her hilt and dashed next to Chrom. This time was different. This time her sword was an old friend and not a surprise maneuver.

Everything would be all right.

And then there was no time to think as she engaged with the nearest Risen. She set her jaw and kept her weight balanced on the balls of her feet.

It grinned at her, pale flesh stained violet. A sword rimed with rust swung toward her with unbelievable speed. Robin raised her own, her parry in place half a breath before the force of the myrmidon's swing smashed into her blade.

She staggered at the weight of the blow, arms burning. With a quick twist, she managed to slip past the myrmidon's guard. Placing both hands on the hilt, she drove the sword through the Risen with the full force of her weight.

In hindsight, Robin wasn't sure who was more surprised when it disintegrated, her or the Risen itself.

"What's next, Robin?" Chrom asked as he yanked his sword out of a Risen that went up in purple smoke.

A quick glance told her no more were coming from the left, and their clearing was just about Risen free. Robin's gaze darted to each Shepherd in turn, but none of them were seriously injured.

Green light flashed as Lissa set about healing the few cuts and bruises they'd sustained. Sumia stood by her side, clenching her lance, and eyes bright with determination.

Robin wiped sweat from her brow as she mentally recalled the crude map Frederick had scratched into the dirt. Two forts awaited them on the other side of the clearing. And then, two more on the far side of the bridge.

She crooked her mouth to the side as she weighed possibility against probability.

These Risen had been slightly better—both in coordinating their movement and in launching their attacks.

But were they more intelligent in and of themselves, or had they simply been arranged into a more advantageous formation?

_Our best chance is to take the forts. Once done, we can create a bottleneck on the bridge._

And hope they were stupid enough to fall for it. Although, judging by some of the historical texts she'd read, a fair number of humans—

"Splendid. It seems I've caught up with you at last."

They all turned as Miriel strode into the clearing, the lenses of her spectacles flashing white as she pushed them up against the bridge of her nose.

"I apologize for my tardiness."

"You're just in time," Chrom said, raising a hand in welcome. "We've dealt with the first lot, and are about to move on to the second."

"So I see. Very well, let us extirpate these brutes!"

There was silence for a moment, broken by Vaike forming a whispered conference with Virion to figure out how, exactly, one went about extirpating—was that even a real word?—their foes. Robin, meanwhile, was hastily jotting down the word in a small book she'd set aside for collecting interesting things. She had a feeling that an afternoon spent shadowing Miriel would have it completely filled in.

Chrom turned to her. "Robin?"

_Lead with cavalry, followed by infantry. Set Kellam up to defend Lissa._

Robin tried unsuccessfully to catch Sumia's eye while Chrom relayed the orders. The Pegasus Knight was still pale and tight-lipped, but she stood with the others and prepared for another battle. A good sign, that. Hopefully once they were finished extirpating the Risen, Sumia would have a little more confidence and faith in herself.

"What's this?" Miriel demanded. She swooped down on some poor, unsuspecting bush. When she straightened, she held the handle of an ax between her finger and thumb as though the fault of its existence was contagious. "An ax? It must have been mislaid, and yet I had not thought such dereliction of duty would be found among the ranks of the Shepherds."

"Whoa! My ax!" Vaike perked up before wilting a little beneath Miriel's gimlet glare. He rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled nervously. "Uh, thanks for finding Righteous Fury, Miriel."

She narrowed her eyes. "I had wondered what manner of ignoramus would have misplaced their weapon. Now I know."

"Er, thanks, Miriel," Vaike said as he accepted his ax. He ran a thumb along the edge to test its sharpness. "For the ax, at least."

"Take better care of your weapon or next time I might give in to the temptation to spellcast it to your hand. Permanently."

Vaike stopped laughing and slipped back in place meekly. Chrom just shook his head and ordered them to advance. Robin snapped her mouth shut hurried after him.

Was it the hat that made the thought of Miriel's ire so terrifying or the certainty that she wasn't in the habit of making idle threats? Whatever it was, Robin made a mental note to remain in the mage's good graces at all costs.

The path ahead had was littered with Risen. Most of them lancers, but a few appeared to be brigands that had been twice unlucky.

Robin sheathed her sword. It would serve no purpose here, besides making it easier for the Risen to skewer her. Resolute, she pulled out a new Thunder tome. She wasn't looking forward to the coming headache, but at least she could be helpful.

Their charge was met by the nearest Risen. Their movements were jerky, but swift. Robin grimaced as the two sides collided, then let out a breath as the Risen went up, one by one, into a column of purple smoke.

The clash of battle was a strange thing. Sully and Vaike hurled insults at the Risen, Virion was flourishing poetry at Miriel, and while many of them shouted as they fought, it was the moaning of the Risen themselves that put ice in Robin's veins.

Her hand burned hot enough that she half expected to see tendrils of smoke rising from her glove, but her discomfort flew from her mind as a lancer and former brigand charged toward her.

Chrom parried the brigand's swing, but he'd be too late to stop the lancer.

Snapping the tome open, Robin braced herself before tracing the runes and rings of Thunder.

White light lanced through her head, scorching the back of her eyes, but just enough of her vision was clear to see the lancer vanish in a puff of smoke-laced Thunder.

After that, there was no time to think or give in to the pain. Their advance had cut through nearly all of Risen. But as they advanced toward the bridge, the gates to the forts stationed on their side of the river flew open with a score of Risen pouring out from each.

Metal clanged. Weapons flashed. Here and there a burst of emerald light showed that Lissa was doing all she could to support the others. The sickly sweet smell of decay settled over the area along with a thin purple mist.

Robin loosed a few more Thunders until her legs went jelly-like and her stomach began to stage a rebellion. No matter how she blinked, her vision was mostly obscured by stars and a kaleidoscope of dark lines and bright edges.

"You all right?" Chrom asked through a particularly nauseating pattern of swirling light and concentric circles. He gripped her by the elbow, and she could just make out the blue of his hair.

She gritted her teeth through the pain-induced nausea. _Fine._

Robin clutched her head when Chrom shouted for Lissa, but forgave him as the healing magic of Lissa's staff fell over her.

"You're not to overextend," Chrom grunted as he blocked a blow from a Risen, knocked the weapon aside, and cut through heavy leather armor, "your magic. Understand?"

He twisted his sword and wrenched it out. The Risen collapsed into smoke, the sound of its final moan all that remained, until it, too, disappeared.

_Yes_.

"Good." His scowl didn't quite make it to his eyes. "Where to next?"

Robin raised a finger to point out there were still a great many Risen to get through before they made their next move, but she chanced to look around before she signed anything. Apparently in the intervening time, the Shepherds had cleared the area—and more importantly, the forts—of Risen.

"You are working your tactician too hard, milord," Frederick said as he rode up to them.

Robin narrowed her eyes. Frederick wasn't going to start lecturing her as well, was he?

"Perhaps in an effort to prevent her from overextending in the first place, Robin might allow us to choose our own movements."

Robin's eyes widened in horror. She knew that the Shepherds had gotten along just fine before Chrom had found her in that field, but the idea of them deviating from all her carefully thought out plans . . . What if they were gravely injured? Or worse?

She shook her head, frowned for emphasis, and glared at them both. Let them dare . . .

"I think that's a 'no,'" Chrom said. He made an attempt at gravity, but couldn't quite hide his grin.

_Cavalry bottleneck the bridge. Get close enough to be seen, but force the Risen to come to you. Miriel and Virion set up behind them to snipe any who come close enough._

Frederick glanced at Chrom, then bowed his head, lips twitching. "Very well. And the infantry?"

_Sweep from behind to clean up anything that got through._

Frederick nodded and reigned Quicksilver around, calling for Sully and Stahl.

"It would appear that Frederick approves." Chrom cocked his head to the side. Then he gestured with Falchion. "Ready?"

Fortunately the sprint to the bridge was a short one, and Robin hardly felt winded at all.

Frederick and Sully had already claimed the first half of the bridge, with Virion behind Sully and Miriel behind Frederick. Stahl waited at the midpoint, along with Vaike. Sumia and Lissa remained a safe distance away, much closer to the forts they'd retaken.

As she took her place next to Chrom, Robin's hand burned worse than ever. She didn't dare try to remove her glove again. The thought of that sickly violet light coming from her . . . Her stomach roiled, and for a moment she was afraid she was going to disgrace herself on the field.

"All right, everyone. Hold your places. Don't advance until ordered," Frederick called. Then, with a glare that should have withered every Risen in the area, he nodded to Sully and they urged their mounts forward.

Robin knew the moment the first Risen spotted him. The air went cold and stale, and she could feel those ruby eyes burning against the back of her hand. She clutched her hand and gritted her teeth. Now was not the time to give way to either pain or fancy.

Plenty of time for that later on—after they'd all come through the battle safe and whole.

Chrom, used to leading the charge, balanced lightly on the balls of his feet, his gaze on the bridge.

The Risen gave off that terrible howl of theirs—something between a moan and a scream. A sound of torment that had been twisted into hatred. Hatred of everything living. Of everything natural. Of anything that did not bow to the will of Grima.

The word burned itself across the way, carried like ashes on the soft breeze. Robin gasped as it hooked itself through her center, clawed it's way through her mind.

Coughing, she fell to one knee.

_Grima_.

A name that meant everything and nothing.

One she had never heard before, and yet it was as familiar as her own.

"Robin," someone called from a great distance.

Something warm and green wrapped itself about her, but it couldn't penetrate the smoke and ash that had cocooned itself about her, sealing her in with the name.

No! she shouted, the single silent word scraping her throat raw. With a strength borne of desperation, she shoved through the cocoon. It shattered like glass, but she was already on her feet, running.

There was a name written somewhere on the other side of the bridge. She knew this as certainly as she knew her own name. The Risen they'd encountered weren't a random evil. They were a trap. A test.

The forts were the key.

The Shepherds could kill ever so many of them, but so long as that name burned unbroken, more would simply appear.

The dead would always outnumber the living.

Robin stumbled through the line Frederick and Sully had created. She put her arm up to cover her face, but she choked on the foulness of the purple smoke all the same.

The wind carried her name, but she was chasing her fate.

The Risen faced her as she approached. She could feel their curiosity, could taste their interest in the stale iron coating her tongue.

Pale Thunder crackled from her fingertips. Tore jagged strips through her vision. Painted dancing lights before her eyes. But each sharpened end of Thunder pierced a deadman through his chest, and their feral howls blended in with the sound of her name until, it seemed, they'd become one and the same.

Pain throbbed in her arms, in her side, as dull iron blades cut delicate red ribbons across her flesh. A breath later, when the dead died a second time, the cuts became a memento. A reminder. A warning.

Drawing in as deep a breath as she dared, she forced herself to move faster, calling upon energy reserves she hadn't been aware even existed. It would hurt a great deal later on, she knew, but it simply couldn't be helped.

The name was so close now, and it could only be blotted out by her hand alone.

She reached forward blindly. The thing that drew her forward was tantalizing close now—

Something slammed into her back, and iron wrapped itself around her middle, pinning her arms to her sides as the force of the tackle threw her forward and down.

"Robin!" a voice demanded, so close she could feel its breath on her ear. "So help me, Robin! If you can hear me, answer me!"

Her fingers pried uselessly at the iron. Whatever it was that held her bound was going to keep her bound until it decided otherwise.

Unless it could be persuaded . . .

Faster than thought, her fingertips crackled with Thunder.

"Dammit, Robin," the voice growled. "I'm trying to get you out of here alive, but if you Thunder me again, Frederick might very well take matters into his own hands."

That voice . . .

It was the color blue . . .

. . . and it was kind . . .

As the Thunder faded from her fingers, the world slowly came into focus—or what she could see of it through the migraine throbbing near her temples.

'Chrom,' she mouthed as his face appeared over her left shoulder.

"You with me now?" he asked, the edge of his voice ragged. His face was stained with dirt and soot, but his eyes were clear and more than a little annoyed.

She nodded, and he released his hold.

"I'm sure you have a perfectly good explanation for haring off into the enemy lines." His expression warned her that any explanation she gave him would be far from sufficient.

_Trap_. Her fingers moved stiffly. The back of her hand might have been drenched in Fire, for how it burned, and the name was so close she could almost—

There. Off to the side of the fortress wall, a glimmer of violet gleamed through the moss.

Chrom favored her with one of his darkest scowls. "I don't follow."

Shakily, Robin got to her feet. The pain she'd pushed through was close enough to nearly overwhelm her, but the name she'd chased was closer still.

She gestured to the point, and Chrom followed her gaze, his eyes narrowed. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"

Robin shook her head. Too many words to explain. She caught his eye before she darted over to the spot.

The pure malevolence of the name dropped her to her knees. She dashed one hand against it, breaking the lines, and dispersing the magic. All around her the howls of the Risen screamed as the force binding them to life vanished.

But Robin remained frozen in place. The name she had destroyed hadn't been a proper name at all. It had been a set of symbols.

Symbols that perfectly matched the markings on the back of her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that escalated quickly. O.O
> 
> This chapter came grudgingly at first, right until Robin charged forward on her own. She wasn't running alone, although she had no way of knowing that. I had no idea the . . . Other Forces . . . in the story were going to appear so early, but the whole Grima's name as a sigil kind of cinched that. (Early warning: The extra story lore from the DLC in Echoes is going to play a part later on.)
> 
> And then there was the minor tussle I had with Chrom. -_- In real life, I'm not accustomed to swearing, but he was quite insistent that I'd heard what he'd said correctly, and no, the usual coy "cursed under his breath" wasn't going to cut it here. To say he was unhappy with the turn of events would be understating things a bit. I'm trying very hard not to picture Frederick's reaction. :$
> 
> So, um, yeah. Setting the precedent for Robin hitting Chrom with her magic under certain circumstances early on. *facepalm* Once everything sinks in, she's going to feel really bad about Thundering him on accident. (See Frederick? Remorse. Lots and lots of remorse. Also a promise not to do it again. Hopefully. Latrine duty will be completely unnecessary. Frederick?) Heh.
> 
> A heartfelt thanks to each one of you who stop by and spend time in this story world—whether it's reading or commenting or what have you. I appreciate you all, and am working hard to make this story shine as best as it can. Thankfully, when I step out of line, the characters are there to smack me back in place. : D


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

The silver blade glittered with the sunset as it shaved away the wood. Bit by bit. Piece by piece. The curls of not-lion—or was it not-dragon?—spilled over Robin's lap.

She'd hidden away in one of the wagons once her meeting with Frederick had concluded, her ears still ringing with all the words he hadn't shouted at her.

Irresponsible had the dubious honor of being the most frequently used word in her dressing down, along with a wide variety of synonyms. If she hadn't been busy dying of mortification, she would have been impressed.

What made everything worse was that Robin couldn't properly apologize for her insubordination, because she wasn't sorry. Especially after she'd learned that a few Risen had spawned in one of the forts before she'd been able to scrub the name from the earth.

A fort that Sumia and Lissa had been standing near.

But although her thoughts twisted round on themselves, the thing she saw whenever she allowed her gaze to rest in one place too long was that accursed mark.

It was connected to the Risen somehow.

Which meant she was too.

And that was where Robin's mind hit a big stone wall. Not so much from the amnesia, as it was fear of what she'd find if she started asking questions and pursuing them to their logical conclusions.

She'd only just found a family or sorts, and a home. The idea that all of the goodness she'd stumbled into could be taken away due to a life she couldn't even remember having lived . . .

The blade of her whittling knife slipped. She stared dumbly at the thin line of red welling up on her thumb.

"Your concentration lies elsewhere." Miriel appeared next to her, holding out a small piece of white linen. "This should do the trick quite nicely."

Robin dabbed at her thumb, grimacing as it began to throb.

"No, not like that. This is something of an experiment, so please allow me to demonstrate the correct procedure."

Against her better judgement, Robin held up her hand—grateful her gloves left her fingers exposed after her middle knuckle. She wasn't ready to see if her hand had stopped glowing or not.

Miriel's grip had the firmness of one accustomed to her experiments attempting to flee. She wrapped the strip of linen around Robin's thumb, tightened her hold when Robin began to squirm, and then tapped the linen with something sleek and silver that resembled a stylus.

When she let go, the linen stayed in place.

"From your expression, I deduce that you are experiencing the cleansing properties of the healing infused herbs the underside of the bandage has been dusted with."

Robin managed a shaky smile. She had no idea that healing infused herbs could mimic a cloud of ferocious bloodsucking insects.

Miriel sighed. She pulled out a small book and made a few notations inside it. "I'm afraid that I have not yet discovered the proper balance of powdered healing crystals and herbs. It is my belief that, once I achieve the correct proportions, the unpleasant side effects will be no more."

. . .

Powdered . . . healing . . . crystals?

No wonder it felt like she'd ground glass into her cut—she basically had.

"It would be unwise to remove the wrapping until your injury has healed," Miriel said, snapping her book shut and hiding it away in her robes once more.

Robin blinked. Could the mage read minds? Was that even possible? She raised a brow.

"The last person who did that ended up having to regrow his thumb. It was a lengthy and unpleasant process that was only partially successful."

Robin eyed her thumb, regretting ignoring her instincts. Why in earth would Miriel slap something on her that had been responsible for de-thumbing someone previously?

"Now that that's out of the way, I propose we commence with our training if we hope to be finished before supper."

Robin pocketed her knife and carving and hopped out of the wagon, scattering wood shavings like dry leaves. She cocked her head to the side and gave Miriel a questioning look. If the mage thought Robin was going anywhere near Fire again, well, she'd been sorely misinformed.

"It has been my observation in the field that you favor Thunder tomes, despite the unpleasant side effects." Miriel pushed her spectacles up onto the bridge of her nose and handed Robin a slim volume.

Unpleasant side effects? Ha! A head-splitting migraine was far more pleasant than burning off parts of her face had been.

"I have taken the precaution of limiting the power of the spell. While you will likely still experience discomfort from the spellcasting, it should not be as severe as it would be with an ordinary Thunder tome."

Robin smiled her thanks. That had been an unexpectedly thoughtful thing to do. Once she figured out how to avoid the recoil, well, that would tip the scales to her advantage.

She followed Miriel who led the way to a small clearing.

"Can you strike that rock?" Miriel asked, pointing. She stood across from Robin, and few feet away from the intended target.

The rock in question was three times her size. Robin nodded. Hitting that would be a piece of pie.

She opened the book, relieved to find the familiar runes and circles, just simplified. Extensively. All written in the odd script Ylissians seemed to favor. She could do a spell like this standing on her head with her eyes closed.

Still, she wanted to leave a good impression, so she studied the diagram until she was certain she could trace it from memory.

Then she leveled her finger at the boulder and called forth the spell. A weak blast of magic sizzled out just before hitting the target. The white hot pain lancing through her head was a little smaller than before.

"Hmm." Miriel scratched something into her book with her quill. "Would you please repeat that, but a little slower this time?"

Robin drew in a deep breath. It was easier to spellcast when she was too preoccupied with not dying to notice how much her head hurt.

Miriel narrowed her eyes. "Your lines and runes are impeccable. The only thing you appear to be doing differently is not voicing the command. What do you do instead?"

Feeling more weary than she had in a long time, Robin, brought her desk around to her front, hooked the sash through her belt, and wrote, _I picture the word clearly in my mind. I don't release the magic until I'm certain everything is in place_.

"I believe an experiment is in order." Without elaborating, Miriel shut her eyes and faced Robin, extending her arm toward a large tree.

Swirls of magic danced in the colors of the sunset as they formed the runes and protective circles. Pressing her lips into a fine line, Miriel mouthed the command without speaking it aloud.

A decently thick shard of Thunder zigged from her finger and zagged into the tree. Because the spell was weak to begin with—she'd used the same modified tome she'd given Robin—it hadn't done more than graze a few leaves.

When Miriel opened her eyes, she rubbed her fingers together. "Hmmm. There's a bit of bite at the end, but on the whole satisfactory for the first try."

Robin's smile faltered a little. Why had Miriel been able to replicate what she'd been doing without having her magic recoil? Was Miriel simply a better mage? Or was there something seriously wrong with Robin or her magic?

"Try again."

Robin shoved her wounded pride to the side and focused on everything that called forth Thunder. Each and every rune. The circles firm and unbroken. The taste of the magic itself.

She released her breath as she let loose the magic she'd gathered carefully in her hand.

For a moment the air hummed with the magic's potential, and she was just daring to hope when the ends of the spell whipped across her mind in a streak of white pain.

Rubbing her temples, she closed her eyes and tried to still the black and white kaleidoscope in her head.

"Curious," Miriel murmured. "Everything in your spell was clearer than the first . . ."

When she opened her eyes, Robin found Miriel staring at her as if she could peer through her mind, if only she looked hard enough. Robin edged away, hoping that's as far as the mage would go in dissecting her spellcasting.

"Again, but this time I would like for you to advance circle by circle."

Robin frowned. That was exactly what she'd done just barely. With each spell, it was getting harder to remember exactly why she wished to remain in the mage's good graces.

Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath. And then she tried.

Again.

And again.

And again.

By the time Miriel showed mercy, Robin's vision was almost completely obscured by patterned light, her stomach was on the verge of rebelling, and the pain that had been lancing through her head had decided to move in and raise a large family.

"So this is where you two have been." Chrom's voice came from somewhere to her right.

"I thought it best to make my observations as early as time and circumstances would allow," Miriel replied as though torturing people in the name of convenience was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Miriel, we aren't marching to war." Chrom didn't laugh, but the amusement was clear in his voice.

"No," the mage agreed. "We are just crossing large swaths of land infested with monstrous abominations."

"Ah," Chrom chuckled softly. "Well, the good news is our campsite is currently free of all roaming abominations and it's supper time."

"Very well. I shall think on what I've observed today to see if I can come up with a solution."

Robin gestured her thanks in the direction she'd last heard Miriel's voice, wondering when—or if—her vision was going to clear. She'd grown accustomed to people pulling her back when her magic bit too deep. It was certainly a different experience to have someone propelling her into its jaws instead.

"Robin, are you all right?"

 _Fine_. She bared her teeth in what she hoped was a passable smile. _Just peachy_.

To prove her point, she turned and walked toward camp.

She made it three steps before something struck her in the face hard enough to knock her off her feet.

"Robin!" A flurry of movement to her right turned out to be Chrom. He gingerly helped her sit up. "Are you—never mind."

Robin cradled her nose, glad for once that she didn't have her voice. Her earlier pain and frustration leaked out of her eyes, and the smell of her own blood wasn't doing her stomach any favors.

"I'm afraid this isn't filled to capacity, but it should ameliorate the worst of the contusion and heal any of the cartilage that might have been damaged."

"Thanks, Miriel," Chrom said. "If you wouldn't mind, would you alert Lissa? Just to be safe."

"Of course."

Something cool and smooth pressed itself against Robin's lips.

"You should probably drink this."

A part of her that was around six years old wanted to refuse, but it wasn't as though she had any dignity left to sacrifice. Huffing a sigh, Robin parted her lips.

The vulnerary slipped down her throat, easing the pain as it went, leaving behind a bitter aftertaste. When Robin dashed the leftover tears from her eyes with her sleeve, her vision had cleared. Mostly.

"Feeling any better?" Chrom asked, leaning forward on his knee.

Robin sighed. _Yes_.

"Good to hear. Are you well enough to eat?"

 _I'm not hungry_. Now that she was feeling better, her mood had turned decidedly peevish.

Chrom looked like he was about to say something, but he shook his head. "Be that as it may, we need to hold council shortly to go over the day's events. We also need to firm up our plans for tomorrow's march."

The sun had mostly gone, and the light had turned to dusk. But even through the dim light, Robin could see that Chrom wasn't going to leave her behind. She didn't know whether to feel relieved, irritated, or happy, so she went with the easiest thing and stood up.

They walked back to camp in silence, but it was a cautiously friendly kind. Between Frederick, Miriel, the earlier battle, and the tree, perhaps he'd decided she'd been punished enough for her irresponsible decision to charge the enemy.

Alone.

"I know you're not hungry, but Lissa has a plate ready for you. Once she's seen to you, we can finish what needs doing today. Frederick and I will be in the command tent."

He gave her another probing look before he turned and vanished among the small sea of tents that had all been arranged in neat rows.

Sighing, Robin went to find Lissa. She needn't have bothered though, because the princess in question came barreling around the corner. It was only due to Robin's cat-like reflexes that she managed to avoid another collision.

"Whoa, Robin! I'm so sorry. There were a couple of people I was working on, and then Miriel said you needed help, but then Stahl—Wait. Are you sure you should be on your feet?" Lissa took her by the arm, and after checking her eyes for any sign of a concussion, she led her over to the camp's main fire. "Are you all right? What hit you?"

 _A tree_. Robin set her jaw and silently dared Lissa to inquire any further.

To her credit, Lissa didn't even blink. She just leaned forward and gently probed Robin's face. "Trees can be sneaky like that. Does it hurt here? Here? What about when I do this?"

Robin let her grimace speak for herself. Lissa had her staff on her, so why was she wasting time poking Robin's face when she could have just healed her?

Once Lissa was certain Robin was all right beyond a little bruising, she crossed her arms and gave her a pointed look. "So. About earlier today when we fought the Risen."

Robin groaned silently. The vulnerary had minimized much of the pain and damage, but not all.

"Word around camp is that you charged the front lines alone. You didn't wait to organize a small contingent. You just made a run at heavily trained dead people with weapons. By yourself."

 _They can't have been well trained, them being dead and all_. Robin sighed as the rest of what Lissa had said sank in. _So you're all gossiping about it?_

Lissa snorted. "The walls of the tents aren't that thick. We didn't have to gossip, because we heard the whole thing."

Oh.

Robin fretted with the edges of her coat. It wasn't bad enough that Frederick hadn't shouted at her—his disappointment had been hard enough to bear—but the entire camp had heard her dressing down? So much for maintaining "the dignity of her station."

The more pressing question was how she was going to face these people she was supposed to be guiding. Especially when she couldn't even explain what had happened or why.

"Don't you dare give me that sad little bunny look. I'm still mad at you."

Robin blinked. Sad little bunny?

"You could have gotten hurt. Or worse!"

Did she really resemble a rabbit?

Lissa deepened her glare. "You better not ever do anything like this again. I take my responsibilities as a little sister seriously you know!"

Her confusion must have shown in her expression. Lissa tugged on her pigtails and growled.

"How do you think my brother would take it if something happened to someone under his command? And don't even get me started on how he ran after you—he could have been hurt too!"

Chrom . . . ran after her? Logically, it was sound. He would have had to in order to tackle her, but it wasn't something she'd considered before.

A mountain of guilt nearly squashed her flat. It was her sworn duty to protect Chrom and Lissa, and she hadn't forgotten her promise to Emmeryn—until she had. Until the world had narrowed down to a single name.

Unbidden, the phantom pain burned the back of her right hand. And all the questions she refused to ask piled themselves into a second mountain.

"Fine. Fine," Lissa huffed. "I forgive you. Just don't do it again . . . Okay?"

Before she could respond, Lissa twirled her staff, drenching Robin in radiant light that smoothed away the pain.

"Now," Lissa's eyes were back to twinkling, which severely hampered her attempt at being stern, "about supper . . ."

* * *

By the time Robin made it to the command tent, the sun had completely gone and the night watch had already been established. Part of her wanted to bypass the command tent altogether, but conflict avoidance was apparently against her nature.

"Robin," Frederick greeted her, cheerful as a thundercloud. The shadows cast by all the candles lighting up the space only enhanced the resemblance.

She nodded in return and made sure the tent flap was closed, not that doing so would deter anyone who happened to be eavesdropping.

"Good, you're here." Chrom gestured to the only other stool in the tent. "Let's get started."

Robin sat down on the stool and busied herself with arranging her writing things on the edge of the table that sat in the center of the tent and took up most of the space. Useless exercises for the most part, but keeping her hands busy always seemed to calm her nerves a little.

Frederick unfurled a map and placed it on the table. Robin's eyes widened. It was one she had drawn for her preliminary plans in getting the Shepherds safely from Ylisstol to Regna Ferox, only someone had taken the time to make it bigger and add details she couldn't have gleaned from the maps she had available at the time.

"We're here," Chrom tapped the map. It was depressingly close to Ylisstol. Robin hadn't truly appreciated just how far they had to travel before. "Right on schedule. Our next leg of the journey should bring us here."

He indicated a little valley nestled in between two large hills. Then he slid his hand a little to the West. "I'm wondering if we might stop by this village instead."

Robin nodded and made a note. The village wasn't that far from their original destination, and shouldn't slow them down.

"How long do you wish to remain at the village?" Frederick asked, his tone carefully neutral.

"We can only afford one night. Our primary mission must be our first consideration," Chrom said with a sigh. "But we can make the most of it. All the time that would have been spent setting up and striking camp can be used to organize the village militias. Or what passes for them."

Robin nodded. She'd been wanting to see what their training involved exactly and, if possible, where it could be made to be more effective.

"With the planting season upon us, the inn should be able to accommodate our numbers." Frederick made a notation in a small book. "And our purse should be sufficient."

"Good."

An awkward silence descended upon them, and Robin realized that Chrom had led with the second item on their agenda.

Which left the events that transpired today. Robin wanted to shy away from it, but as Frederick had emphasized so well earlier that evening, her position was not an empty one for shallow preening. How she conducted herself would forge her destiny. Now, among the Shepherds, and later on.

And if . . . If her previous destiny had been darker, one that would rob her of all she now held dear, then she would not allow her pride to stand in her way. Not if she had a chance to change things.

 _They fight well_ , she wrote. _The command signals were sufficient, but they will not work in a full scale battle. I am working on a better solution, and have a few Shepherds I'd like to consult_.

She paused, hand hovering above the vellum. She could either trust Chrom—and Frederick by extension—or risk falling from the precipice when the time came.

 _As for earlier, I must apologize for my actions. It had never been my intention to put anyone else at risk_. She could not regret stopping the Risen, but she did regret forgetting her promise to Emmeryn.

She pushed the sheet of vellum over to Chrom and then folded her hands in her sleeves.

Chrom turned it over, his brow furrowed, before he handed it off to Frederick.

Frederick's expression remained blank. Robin frowned. She could already tell she was going to hate it whenever he went detached professional on her. A smiling Frederick was a happy Frederick—which meant he was either uncommonly pleased or about to inflict lessons in character building. A scowl signaled impending doom, but she had no idea what to make of an expression that was no expression at all.

He set the sheet down on the table, each movement precise and measured. "The question I find myself returning to is whether or not you have learned from your mistake so that you will not make it again in the future."

And there it was. Robin swallowed hard. She wanted more than anything to reassure them that this had been a one time occurrence. That the madness that had fallen upon her would never again find purchase.

She might have been any number of things before she fell from a dream into that field, but Robin was determined to keep the new life she'd been granted as pristine as she could. Perhaps, then, she would not become whatever it was she'd fallen away from.

Her shoulders slumped as she signed, _I can't promise that. I was wrong. I know that. But I can't promise . . ._

How could she even begin to explain what had happened? That she'd been herself, yet not herself. That all the world, save a name, had fallen completely away.

Everything.

"I see." Frederick was wearing that carefully blank look again.

Chrom extended a hand. "Help us understand what happened, Robin."

She bowed her head. _I can't. I don't know what happened_. She squeezed her left hand into a fist. _I only know that I needed to stop something bad_.

"At the risk of your liege?" Frederick's tone was uncharacteristically gentle.

 _I hadn't meant for him to follow_. She gave Chrom a pointed look, to which Chrom gave one of his own. _I just—I—sensed the Risen were a trap. That if I could destroy the . . . hex, they would be defeated_.

"And so they were." Chrom crossed his arms and leaned back on his stool.

Frederick raised a brow. "You sensed this how?"

Robin told the only truth she was certain of. _I don't know_.

"Could you be more specific?"

She retrieved her vellum and dipped her quill into a small bottle of ink. _I only knew that the Risen were a trap, some sort of test. They were there because we were. I had to stop them._

"Why you?" Frederick asked. "Specifically. We were doing a fine job of cleansing the area of the Risen by following your original orders."

Chrom didn't say anything. He just looked at her with those big trusting eyes of his.

Robin shook her head. _I don't know_.

"Don't know or won't say?" Frederick pressed, iron beneath the quiet in his voice.

Her head jerked up. _What do you mean?_

"I mean, is it possible you have prior allegiances elsewhere?"

"Frederick," Chrom said, his voice low. He gave the knight a look she couldn't quite decipher, but it seemed to douse some of the intensity in Frederick's gaze.

Robin's hand shook as she penned her response. _How would I know?_

In an effort to steady her hand, she applied a little more pressure which only served to snap the tip of her quill clean off. She stared at it as though it held all the answers she sought, and all those she feared.

"We must know that we can trust you to guide us on the battlefield, and off—should the occasion require."

Why did his questions feel like a blast of Fire to the face? Frederick's concerns were logical and valid. It would have been surprising if he hadn't had them.

Robin glanced at Chrom. The promise she'd made was on the tips of her fingers—except Emmeryn had spoken to her privately. It was not her vow to share. Even so, the memory of the talk they'd had shook loose some of the frustration and fear she'd been clutching so close.

"Frederick, that's enough for tonight." Chrom put out a hand to forestall the objections the knight was clearly readying himself to deploy. "It's late and we're all tired."

Frederick opened his mouth, then seemed to change his mind. He simply stood and bowed before exiting the tent.

The tent seemed to shrink with his absence. Robin gathered her things as quickly as she could. All this talk of Risen had raised the phantom burning in her hand once more.

As she moved to leave, Chrom stood as well.

"Robin, wait."

She canted her head to the side and did as he asked.

"About tonight and earlier." Chrom frowned as he rested his left hand on the hilt of his sword. "If there's anything you remember, anything at all . . ."

Robin went completely still. She'd turned to glass and was bound to shatter with the first careless movement. The silence stretched a world between them.

 _Do you believe my loyalty is compromised_?

"Robin."

Something in his tone made her turn her face toward his. Afraid of the condemnation she might find in his eyes, she couldn't quite bring herself to look at him directly.

"You have fought valiant and true from the moment we found you in that field. You might have chosen the easier path, but instead you followed us, unbidden." He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, and she met his gaze. "I may not always understand the choices you make, but I trust you with my life and the life of every Shepherd. Nothing you have done has given me cause to doubt your loyalty."

She wanted to speak then. To pour a little of her heart out, but her fingers burned with the memory of the marks on the back of her hand. If Chrom knew they matched perfectly a name she could hardly bear to even think, would he still trust her?

To Robin's shame, she couldn't immediately rally the courage to find out. And then the moment had passed.

"Frederick means well, and he means you no harm." He offered her a wan smile. The flickering lights of the candles highlighted the tired lines around his eyes. "You might not believe it, but you've made quite a lot of progress with him."

She stared at him as though he'd sprouted a second head, because he might as well have.

Chrom laughed as he held the tent flap open for her. "You'll have to trust me on this one."

Trust, there it was again.

She stepped out of the tent, mulling over his words. Trust was a fragile bloom with deep roots, so how did one go about properly nourishing it? Frederick's trust would not be easily won, and then there were all the other Shepherds. If she was to guide them effectively, she would need their trust, as they would need hers.

But could she ever really expect to earn their trust when she couldn't completely trust herself?

"Robin? Are you—is everything all right?"

She blinked, and the world came back into focus. Chrom was giving her an odd look, and even in the moonlight she could see the faint dusting of color in his cheeks.

Oh! Her eyes widened when she realized she'd been caught staring. Her fingers moved to sketch an explanation, that it wasn't what it looked like. That she hadn't been staring at him—well, technically she had been, but not _staring_ staring.

 _Fine_ , she signed instead. _Just . . . peachy_.

"You're certain?" He canted his head to the side, his brow furrowed, frowning.

She nodded, probably too enthusiastically, and bid him good night.

"The tents are over that way." Chrom gestured to the left.

Robin nodded again, feeling more awkward and stupid by the moment and having no idea why, only that she wanted to find somewhere quiet where she could die of mortification.

After she figured a few things out first, of course.

She held up her book and nodded toward the campfire. It had gone a reddish orange color from burning so low, but it would still provide better light than a candle.

When Chrom made no move to object or stop her, Robin turned away. She thought she heard him murmur something, but when she turned back, he was gone.

Shaking her head, Robin sat as close to the fire as she dared and pulled out the tome Miriel had concocted for her. There was no way to tell when she'd lose herself again, but if—and when—she did, she was going to be ready.

But first things first. She placed her things beside her and shrugged out of her coat. The cool night air raised goosebumps on her arms and sent shivers racing through her. Well and good. The cold would give her something else to focus on.

Robin closed her eyes, drew in a few deep breaths, and traced the first runes before enclosing them in a protective circle.

One down, three to go.

* * *

"Robin, are you _trying_ to set your face on fire again?"

Robin blinked up at a bleary image she assumed was Lissa. It was hard to tell. Even though the headache had gone, her vision still hadn't returned to normal.

"What are you doing out here so early anyway?"

It took a moment for everything to filter in, but eventually the sounds of a fair number of people striking camp made their way into her awareness. And then the sweet smell of roasted meat and other delectable breakfasty scents hit her, and she forgot everything else.

Most everyone else had eaten, so it was but the work of a moment to acquire a plate piled high enough with food that even Lissa had to approve.

"Make sure you eat it all," she said, jabbing her finger in Robin's direction. "Or else."

Lissa watched her for a moment more before she skipped off to aid in the final preparations for striking camp.

Propping the modified spell book on one knee, Robin studied the diagrams as she ate.

The markings were clear and simple. She knew them by heart. In fact, she wagered she could probably do the spell backwards if she had to.

"I must say that I admire your work ethic," Miriel said as she sat down next to Robin. "I have it from a reliable source that you spent all night studying as well."

Robin sighed. She was used to getting . . . something from her studies. Well, something more than pounding headaches with a side of double vision. This should be easier than breathing. She must be missing something, but what?

"Have you tried any casting this morning?"

Robin shook her head. Her stomach shifted uncomfortably, and she had a sudden regret for eating so much—anything—for breakfast.

Before Miriel could start another torture session, Robin flipped her desk around and hastily penned a note.

_Would you be willing to demonstrate the spell for me, slowly?_

Miriel narrowed her eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Very well." She pushed her spectacles up on the bridge of her nose, and then began tracing the runes slowly in the space before them.

Robin's own eyes narrowed in concentration. Miriel's runes were neat and clear, but written oddly. Not that this would present much of an obstacle. The books and maps in the library back in Ylisstol were the same. She just needed to focus harder to make sense of them.

Indeed, her fingers were already tracing the runes, mimicking the strange shapes and lines of Miriel's spell to perfection.

She braced herself as she completed the third circle and began tracing the final runes. Her stomach twisted uneasily, reminding her that eating a large breakfast was a really terrible mistake she did not intend to repeat.

Robin hunched her shoulders as she turtled her neck in, anticipation ringing through her blood and tightening her muscles.

Gold lines glowed as she traced the final rune. Now it was time to let go of the magic she'd gathered. Maybe if she was very careful, it wouldn't snap so hard against her mind.

But magic did, as it was prone to in all her experience, as it pleased. The final spell slipped through her fingers, a silk ribbon crackling with lightning.

Being a simplified spell, it sizzled against the ashes of the campfire, snapped against the stones, and then fell silent.

Robin gaped at the little black zig of darkened ash that her spell had disappeared into. She waited, holding her breath, not daring to move.

But the pain, the light, the misery that was magic recoil seemed to have passed her by.

"Hmmm." Already the gears in Miriel's mind were spinning out possible solutions to their query. The mage tapped her chin thoughtfully as she stared into the distance.

Robin clutched her tome to her chest, waiting for a verdict she wasn't sure would be good news or not.

"By comparison, your runes of this morning are far inferior to those you utilized the evening prior. And yet . . ." Miriel's eyes widened. "Could it really be so simple? Please repeat the exercise, but trace the runes as you are most comfortable doing."

Perhaps emboldened by her recent victory, Robin grinned and nodded, ready to try again. Was this what magic felt like when it wasn't recoiling against the hand that crafted it? It bubbled like euphoria and excitement and anticipation—the good kind—and—

Her thoughts shattered as the familiar recoil blazed across her vision and lanced white lightning through the chambers of her mind. Then she clapped both hands over her mouth as her stomach gurgled it's extreme displeasure.

And yet Miriel was clucking with delight.

"So simple, and yet no one ever thought to inquire further."

Because the spell had been a minor one, and the first recoil of the day, it's bite wasn't too terrible and her vision cleared quickly.

Robin frowned when Miriel turned toward her, a triumphant gleam in her eye.

"The source of your magical difficulty lies in your penmanship."

Robin raised a brow as she put a hand to her chest. Lissa had accused her of flourishing, but Miriel herself had found no fault with her runes previously.

"I failed to take into account our relative positioning when we first began. Do you recall that we stood opposite each other?"

Robin nodded slowly, not quite certain whether she was waiting for the trap to spring or a brilliant insight to occur.

"And this morning we sat side by side."

She nodded again, her fingers fidgeting for an explanation.

Miriel produced the note Robin had given her, magicking up a bottle of ink and a quill from the insides of her sleeves.

She rested a long finger next to the message. "I believe you are requesting that I demonstrate the spell for you here, but your letters and words are all backwards. Observe." With a few quick swishes of her quill, Miriel reproduced the message, but in the strange way of writing that all the books—

No. Not strange writing. If Miriel was correct . . . Robin flipped the sheet of vellum over and her eyes widened. As if by magic, her own writing took on the strange characteristics of the books and maps and Miriel's morphed into something that might have come from her own hand—if her flourishes were spikier and her letters more cramped.

Her mind jumped back to all the times she had assumed she'd written on the wrong side of the vellum. To all the creased brows. The sound of the pages being flipped over crashed against her memory, a frothing sea breaking against rocky certainty.

"From your expression, I deduce that no one ever told you," Miriel said, her voice oddly muted and gentle.

Robin shook her head.

"Ah."

"Robin?"

Robin turned toward the sound of Chrom's voice, but all she saw before her were the memories her mind continued to replay. Every detail carved with exquisite perfection.

"We're ready to head out. Are you ready?"

"You might try practicing while we march." Miriel was all brisk business once more. "If you need my assistance, I shall be in the second wagon."

"So," Chrom trailed off.

Robin shook her head and forced herself to smile. They'd figured it out, and once she grew accustomed to writing everything backwards—to her—well, she'd be much more helpful in battle.

Wouldn't she?

When she blinked, the memories fell away and Chrom stood before her, his brow furrowed as though puzzling over a challenging riddle.

Robin stood, sweeping all her things into her pockets. There would be plenty of time to sort things out later. For now, she was going to relish their victory.

"Did something happen?" Chrom's gaze intensified as though he was peeling back all the layers and seeing her as she truly was.

Robin laughed and pulled him toward the front of the column where Frederick waited.

 _I'll tell you about it as we go_.

Unnoticed by either, a tiny zig of darkened ash bloomed into a small white flower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh. Well that's one mystery solved. Robin wasn't writing on the wrong side of the vellum, she was just writing backwards the whole time. And no more magical recoil. Yay! This chapter grudgingly gave up its secrets, well most of them anyway. I wasn't expecting the last line, and while I have a vague impression of what it relates to, yeah, I'm in the dark on this one too.
> 
> Miriel has been an unexpected pleasure to write. I get to let out my inner word nerd, and going off some of the support conversations, she's going to be the resident mad—but only occasionally—scientist.
> 
> The hardest thing in this chapter was trying to strike that balance of overly cautious, takes his duties seriously Frederick without making him too unlikeable. I'm looking forward to a few chapters more where he and Robin finally arrive at an understanding that protecting Chrom and Lissa, along with all the other Shepherds, is the most important thing to both of them. And hey, Robin will have her revenge at some point. #bearmeat #sorrynotsorry
> 
> Thank you all for stopping by, reading, and/or commenting! You guys are awesome! :)
> 
> Mirrored from FF.net.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

Robin stared at the charred remains of what might have been food at some point. It had been burned so thoroughly that even its scent had been seared away.

"Well?" Sully put her hands on her hips. "Eat up! Can't expect to get strong enough to stand a chance against Vaike without it. Trust me on this, you don't want to go fighting him on an empty stomach. Besides, I made it special for you. I don't cook for just anybody, you know."

Judging by the contents on her plate, Robin could well believe it. The question was, what had she done to make an enemy of the red-headed cavalier?

The last few days had been soothingly boring in their predictability. Wake up, eat, pack up, march. Then march some more, set up camp, eat, go to bed. They hadn't encountered more than a stray Risen here or there, which were all easily dealt with.

More importantly, her hand hadn't burned with their presence and her mind hadn't had any occasion to wander back to the name.

She studied while they marched, sometimes breaking up the monotony by practicing her magic. Thunder came to her reliably now, and the ill effects of the magical recoil had completely gone.

Then, once Frederick had issued the order to rest or eat or set up camp, Robin would find a quiet place and bury her nose in her books some more. Regna Ferox was a fascinating place historically, even if it tended toward colder temperatures than she thought humane.

And the librarians had been generous in how many books they'd allowed her to take.

In short, everything had gone on smoothly, which made this morning all the more bewildering.

It had started with Lissa and those confounded frogs of hers that she kept tucked away like some disgustingly moist bad luck charm that she delighted in producing whenever things got too quiet.

Robin shuddered at the memory. She had scrubbed herself raw with the tepid water someone had half filled their largest cooking pot with, but she could still feel the slimy wiggling mass sliding down the back of her shirt.

Then there was Vaike. Out of nowhere he'd challenged her to a duel of honor or some such nonsense. She still wasn't clear on why the challenge had been issued, only that it was set to take place after they set up camp for the night.

Last of all, there was . . . this. She prodded some of the charcoal with her spoon, well aware that Sully was watching her every move.

"Something wrong?" Sully asked, probably without any intention of looming. Even so, the sentiment was most definitely there.

Robin shook her head, unable to tear her eyes away from the lump that had to have been edible at some point in the distant past.

"Then eat up! Vaike'll be here soon."

If she didn't know any better, Robin would have suspected Sully of conspiring with Vaike to incapacitate her before the challenge could be properly answered.

She could do this. She _had_ to do this. Sully was only trying to be helpful, and it probably didn't taste as bad as it looked.

Yeah, and fish could fly.

Wrinkling her nose, Robin tried sawing off a bit of whatever it was. When that failed, she hit a corner of the chunk hard enough to knock off a few small pieces of . . . something.

Sully's grin widened. "Well?"

Robin swallowed hard. Her hand had stopped moving halfway from spoon to mouth. She narrowed her eyes. It would all be over with in less time than it took to get her here. And if flirting with death meant an increase in team solidarity . . .

"Sully," Stahl jogged up, slightly breathless. "Captain wants to see you."

Sully grunted something before slapping Robin on the back. "Looks like you're free and clear. For now."

Unprepared for a stealth attack, Robin's torso jerked forward at the same time she'd opened her mouth and inched the spoon a little closer. The result was predictable and every bit as disastrous as she'd anticipated—even though she hadn't had time for even the smallest taste before she swallowed the blackened bit of food by reflex.

"Er, Robin, you don't look so—"

"Let's get a move on." Sully, unaware of what had just transpired, grabbed the wide-eyed cavalier by the shoulder, spun him around, and started jabbering about something or other, Robin really couldn't be sure what.

The spoonful she'd swallowed hit her stomach like an avalanche of stones, and she wasn't yet certain she was going to be able to keep them down. Her eyes watered as she coughed into her hand. Urgh! The inside of her mouth and throat felt like they'd been coated in camp fire.

"There you are." Vaike appeared, pointing the business end of Righteous Fury at her. "School's in session, but the Teach can't do his job if his students are tardy."

Student? Robin pounded on her chest to free the last shard of soot from her windpipe.

"So let's get going."

Much like Sully had pressed Stahl into accompanying her, Vaike clapped down on Robin's shoulder, sent her spinning, and then propelled her toward the edge of camp.

All of these movements, particularly the spinning, did little to calm Robin's stomach. Her eyes widened. She slapped a hand over her mouth, and then dashed over to a bush just as the inevitable happened.

"That's right," Vaike said from behind, sounding pleased. "Expel your weakness and, uh, make place for courage!"

Robin stood, dabbing the corners of her mouth with the back of her wrist. Frederick would be pleased that someone had been listening to his lecture on building character earlier that day.

Now that Sully's "gift" was no longer terrorizing her innards, she felt remarkably better.

She straightened her coat and reached for her tome. Once she dealt with Vaike's honor problems, there would probably be enough time for her to sneak in some more Feroxian history before she had to meet with Chrom and Frederick to go over the day and lay out the details for tomorrow's march.

"Oh, no." Vaike snatched her tome and casually tossed it aside. "None of that fancy stuff. Just the might of our raw power to, uh . . ." Vaike scratched his head. "How did the rest of it go?"

Robin glanced helplessly at her tome that lay like a fallen bird in the scrub before she pressed the heel of her palm against an impending headache. She secured her desk to her belt. It had been difficult at first, but she was starting to feel comfortable writing backwards.

"Defend our honor, lives, and country against all manner of weevils," Vaike read, scratching his head again. "I don't remember Fred saying anything about weevils."

Robin sighed. The day had already been a long one, and it was only getting longer.

 _EVIL_ , she wrote in large, unmistakable letters.

"The weevils are evil?" Vaike raised a brow. "That's a little harsh, isn't it? I mean it's not like they have a choice about being weevils. Everybody's got eat sometimes, you know?"

Robin clenched her fists and screamed silently in her head.

"Anyway," Vaike cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders as he bounced gently on the balls of his feet. "You ready to get schooled?"

Narrowing her eyes into a finely honed glare, Robin lifted the sash tied to the desk over her head. No sense in impeding herself with her desk. Shepherd or no Shepherd, Vaike was going to regret every bent page, every smear of dirt or nature, on her tome. She was going to make sure of it.

The hilt of her sword rested more comfortably in her hand than it ever had before. Robin wasn't sure if she should be pleased or not, but with Vaike swinging Righteous Fury at her, she'd take what she could get.

The air whistled with the ax's war cry, and Robin's professional career as a swordswoman was saved only by a few fancy steps she'd learned by watching Virion, of all people.

He was an expert at removing himself from undesirable situations.

As she finished the twirl, she brought her sword down along the shaft of the ax, her teeth gritted against the shock radiating painfully up her arms. Teach was about to learn something about superior reach.

"Wait a sec." Vaike executed some sort of sharp twisting movement that ripped the sword from Robin's hand and sent it flying toward the forest. "Is that all you've got?"

She glowered at him while she cradled her stinging fingers against herself. Was he mocking her?

"I mean, you know it's okay to hit me with everything you've got, right? The Teach can take any punishment you can dish out, so no holding back this time."

Fury radiating in every step, Robin retrieved her sword. Her feet hurt. Her arms ached. Her fingers felt like pincushions. Her throat burned. Her stomach had mutinied. And the inside of her mouth tasted like a forest fire.

A headache began to hammer the space behind her eyes until she couldn't work out who she was angry at.

Only that she was.

"Right, now gimme your best shot." Vaike was grinning like a lunatic as he continued to bob and weave—movements that only aggravated both her head and her stomach.

Throwing caution to the wind, Robin charged him.

"That's more like it!" Vaike laughed.

Virion's footwork hadn't been the only kind she'd studied. Vaike's footwork was less of a dancer's, but still surprisingly light. Like a leaf on the wind, he could change his direction with amazing speed.

Counting on him to do just that, Robin feinted high and to the right. Vaike jumped back, his arms raised to block the strike that wasn't coming. Utilizing some more of Virion's footwork—only stepping into trouble instead of out of it—Robin twirled under his guard and jabbed him in the belly with her pommel.

Or tried to, at least.

The stupid thing rebounded off what felt like steel, and the force she'd applied suddenly turned against her. Robin's sword flew out of her grasp for the second time, stinging her fingers as it left her.

Dancing in place, Robin cradled her fingers and tried not to choke on the words crowding uselessly on her tongue.

"See? I told you." Vaike preened as he patted his stomach. "You've got to stop worrying about hurting me and come at me hard. Like I'm one of those Risen things. Now stop playing around. Stuff your face with courage and . . . er . . ."

Robin closed her eyes and tried to slow down her breathing. Frederick would be thrilled to know he'd acquired a new acolyte—

The meeting!

Robin's eyes flew open as she lunged forward to find her sword.

There! Something glittered near a small bush on the edge of the clearing. Right next to her things.

Without stopping, she scooped up her desk and her tome before her fingers closed around the hilt of her sword.

"Uh, Robin?"

Robin shook her head and gestured toward camp. She didn't have time to write an explanation. Instead, she mimed half an apology before setting off for the command tent at a dead run.

"Wait!" Vaike called. "What about our fight? We were just warming up!"

In spite of good manners, Robin ignored him. Something told her Frederick wouldn't accept imaginary duels of honor as a legitimate excuse for being late.

"Ah, ma cherie." Virion appeared out of nowhere as was his habit when there was poetry to spout or Risen to subdue. "Is something amiss?"

Robin shook her head and forced herself to slow down. A very little. Frederick would no more tolerate poetry than fighting, but the stitch burning in her side was difficult to ignore.

Virion chuckled. "As fast as you were going, you might have had the entire Risen army at your heels."

_Meeting._

Surprisingly, Virion had picked up on their alphabet fairly quickly. Even so, now was not the time to linger.

As if to emphasize this point, the command tent came into view. Frederick, standing guard, narrowed his eyes at her. Radiating disapproval, he disappeared into the tent.

"Ah, then I shall not keep you." Virion managed to execute a truly remarkable bow while keeping pace with her. "Farewell, milady."

She managed a small wave before she burst through the tent flap like an unruly wind. To her surprise, only Frederick was there to note her less than decorous entrance.

Had she missed the meeting entirely?

Heart sinking into her boots, Robin ducked her head before taking her seat. The map had already been spread across the table, and all the candles were lit, although a little of the daylight still lingered.

"Robin." Frederick cleared his throat.

She did her best not to grimace as she slipped the sash over her neck and looked up. When it became apparent that he wasn't going to say anything else, she nodded, and then went back to arranging her things.

A silence settled over them that was as awkward as it was uncomfortable. Frederick cleared his throat a few times, but otherwise remained perfectly still.

Robin had just gathered up enough courage to try to break the silence when Sully, Stahl, and Chrom entered the tent.

"I told you it was faster to go around the King's Mound than to go over it," Sully said, elbowing past Stahl. Despite her stern demeanor, she looked quite pleased with herself.

"So you did." Chrom shook his head, but he was smiling.

"We would've gone faster if we'd left the horses behind." Stall rubbed his side where Sully had jabbed him.

"The King's Mound, milord?"

Robin straightened. Frederick only ever used that distant, yet oh, so polite tone when he was particularly upset. That paired with the carefully blank expression on his face meant trouble.

And for once, it wasn't being directed at her.

Chrom, either insensible to the danger or immune to Frederick's temper, deftly moved to his place at the table. Sully and Stahl drew closer as well.

"Yes." Chrom pointed to a location on the map not that far from where they'd set up camp. "On the other side of the mound is a village. Though they've been fewer in number, the Risen are still a very real threat. We hadn't covered this area in previous patrols, which, in itself, warranted a visit."

"A village, milord?"

Chrom nodded. "A small village, but large enough that it can provide for its own protection against most threats."

"It took my brother ages to convince them he wasn't some kind of new breed of witch." Stahl laughed. "He still makes the trek to visit every so often. They have an incredible variety of rare herbs."

"Herbs," Sully scoffed. "What about the blacksmith? I haven't seen metal craft that fine outside of Ylisstol."

Chrom, still focused on the map, traced a line with his finger, his brow creased with whatever he was mentally calculating. "I think it won't be difficult to make up for one day's lost time."

Robin raised a brow. When she'd mapped out their route, of course she had included delays and a reasonable amount of misfortune into her calculations. Even so, was it truly necessary to deviate so soon into the march? What if one of the axles broke on one of the wagons? Or if the unthinkable happened and enough of them were wounded in battle? Or if the weather turned inclement and they either had to wait it out or chart out a new route entirely?

"What would you be planning to do during that lost day?" Frederick's tone hadn't lost the edge of danger to it. If anything, it had intensified. "Milord."

Sully glanced at Frederick before she nudged Stahl in the side with her elbow again. He turned toward her, caught sight of her expression, and promptly clamped his lips shut.

Now that she'd caught his eye, she nodded subtlety toward Frederick. Stahl's eyes widened and he backed away as unobtrusively as he could while still remaining in the tent.

Chrom looked up, the carefree smile melting away. He glanced around, yet couldn't seem to pinpoint the cause of the silent tension building up inside the tent.

"I want to do a clean sweep of the area. It won't prevent the Risen from reappearing within the perimeter, but I'd like for us to do what we can to clear the land around the village of Risen."

His gaze fell on Robin, and she could almost forgive him for the changes he was making to her carefully drawn up plans, but some of the things Sully, Stahl, and Chrom had said, along with a few they hadn't, were starting to make a terrible kind of sense.

_While you were visiting the village, you weren't surveying the area for Risen, were you?_

It was only after she'd handed him her question that Robin realized it probably would have been a better idea to wait to ask that particular question when Frederick wasn't seated next to Chrom with that terrifyingly blank look on his face.

"We should probably be going," Sully said, her gaze darting toward the tent flap. "See if we can't find a bite of supper."

"But we—ow! Oh, right." Stall rubbed his side where Sully had jabbed him. "Supper would be good. You want us to grab a plate for you, Captain?"

"That won't be necessary, but thank you."

The tent flap had only just fallen closed when Robin leaped to her feet. She slammed down the tome she'd been white-knuckling once she'd worked out what had likely happened and glared at Chrom.

All the words she wanted to shout at him were poised on the tip of her tongue, but she could only stand there in mute fury. The sentiment she wanted to express would have been lost if she put her words to fingers or vellum.

"Peace, Robin," Frederick said, his tone soft and his gaze resting squarely on Chrom. "I'm sure Milord has a good reason for going off with an insufficient guard without telling anyone until he returned."

Chrom looked at them with genuine surprise. "Of course I did. And my guard was hardly insufficient."

"Unless I am very much mistaken, your guard consisted of two people alone."

"Y-es." Chrom furrowed his brow. "I'm not exactly helpless when it comes to a fight, and I had less than that when we found Robin."

Frederick leaned forward, the candlelight glinting in his eyes. "Aye, but one of them was me."

Robin gestured to Frederick and raised a brow. Sully and Stahl were both talented and fine Shepherds, but Robin had come across only one other person who could stand against the knight and stand a chance of winning.

And that person was Chrom.

Frederick narrowed his eyes. "And there weren't any hoards of Risen dropping from the heavens to infest the land."

Chrom opened his mouth to respond, then shut it again as he glanced at Frederick and then at Robin. His brow furrowed for a moment, before his eyes widened.

"You're upset." He said the words with a kind of wonder, as though he only half-believed them himself.

Robin ground her teeth against all the words she wanted to shout. The promise she'd made to Emmeryn was a vow she'd meant to uphold. That she'd already failed the exalt once burned hot enough against her conscience that she was determined to never forget her duty again.

Frederick tipped his head to the side. "You left with no word of what you were planning."

Chrom sighed, ran a hand through his hair. "You both have been working hard. It had been my intention to lighten some of your load."

 _By disappearing?_ The words flew from Robin's fingers as fast she thought them.

The half smile he gave her was rueful. "I have been reliably informed that things are quieter wherever I am not."

Much of the tension went out of Frederick's face. "We are not serving in our usual capacity, Milord. In you, Ylisse is seeking audience with Regna Ferox in what is hoped will be mutually beneficial to both our parties."

"Don't remind me." Chrom pinched the bridge of his nose. "I have no idea what Emm was thinking in sending me."

Robin narrowed her eyes. From the way he sat, to the unreadable expression on his face, every instinct she had told her that Frederick was hiding something.

But what?

And, more importantly, why?

"Perhaps," Frederick ventured after he won—or lost, Robin couldn't be sure which—an internal debate, "she sees in you a potential you have long been neglecting."

Chrom groaned into his hands. "Our fates have been decided since birth. And I, for one, am not complaining about my lot."

Huffing a sigh, Robin tucked away her ill-temper. Oh, she was plenty furious at Chrom. What if something had happened to him? Yet she couldn't deny she'd been out of sorts before she'd even entered the tent, and when she did figure out a way to get her point across, she didn't want anything else muddled in with it. She wasn't sure how often a person was allowed to dress down his or her superior, but it couldn't be all that often, and she wanted to make hers count.

It didn't help matters any that she was a big flaming hypocrite in deed, rather than intent.

"Even so, Milord, your lot comes with its own set of duties and responsibilities."

"What would you have me do?" Despite his weary demeanor, something in Chrom's tone commanded both their attention. "I am duty bound to protect those who cannot protect themselves. There are numerous villages all over Ylisse that are too small to put up much resistance."

Frederick was smiling now. Not with his mouth, but in his eyes. And the shadow of pride was in his expression.

"Don't leave me behind next time."

Chrom nodded.

And then, when it became clear no one else was going to say it, Robin leaned forward, her eyes never leaving Chrom's. _Don't disappear. Ever. Again._

The promise she had made Emmeryn bound her to Chrom and Lissa both. And if that bond was ever severed, Robin was determined that it would not be by her hand.

The stern expression on Chrom's face was marred by the laughter in his eyes. "So long as you restrain yourself from charging into battle alone. Agreed?"

He held out his hand.

Robin glared at him. The Shepherds could survive losing their tactician far better than they could the loss of their captain and prince. But if this was what it took to honor her promise, then so be it.

She offered her hand. His grip was surprisingly firm, and she could almost feel this new promise form into something solid between them. Although no spell had been cast, no enchantment rendered, Robin sensed that she could no more go back on their understanding than she could on the promise she'd made to his sister.

Wonderful.

Now all she needed to do was have a talk with Lissa and her collection of geas' could be a completed set.

"Right." Chrom tapped the map where Robin assumed the village was located. "I think it wise to send out a few scouts to do a more thorough search to ensure there are no Risen currently about."

Robin nodded as she opened her book. If they sent out the scouts at first light, they would have a good idea of whether or not they'd be marching by the end of breakfast.

"I propose we send out two teams of scouts." Frederick narrowed his eyes as he studied the map. No doubt he knew, or would shortly know, every inch of the surrounding land. Leave no pebble unturned, as it were. "One cavalier on each team, and a supporting team mate. With strict orders not to engage, they need to be fast and unobtrusive."

Robin pulled another book out of her pocket. In this one, she kept a record of each Shepherd's strengths, weaknesses, and potential for future consideration.

As she flipped through the pages, an idea began to form . . .

* * *

 "Uh, Chrom?" Vaike said, a sheepish expression on his face while he rubbed the back of his neck.

Chrom narrowed his eyes and set the report he'd been reviewing down. Without fail, whenever Vaike looked and sounded like that, it only ever meant one thing: trouble.

"What is it this time?" He sighed, not quite bothering to keep the annoyance out of his voice. A band of risen had been spotted not too far from here, and he needed to act soon to make sure as many of the surrounding villages were as secure as possible. It didn't help matters any that Robin was supposed to be going over the report with him, but he hadn't seen hide nor hair of her since he'd delivered her to the mess tent that morning.

Vaike's face contorted into something between determination and unabashed hope. "It's not my fault. Just getting that out of the way up front. But there's something you should probably know."

Something like a lead weight sank in Chrom's stomach. This was going to be a complicated mess, wasn't it? "What isn't your fault?" he asked, already regretting the question.

"See, it's like this—"

"I think you might need to see it," Lissa piped up as she joined them. It didn't escape Chrom's notice that neither she nor Vaike were making eye contact.

Chrom crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair so he could fit both of them in his glare. "What are you talking about?"

Lissa opened her mouth, thought the better of whatever she'd intended to say, and then sighed and bowed her head. "It really would be better if you could just see this one for yourself."

"Fine," he said in a tone that promised they were far from finished with the discussion. He got to his feet, glancing around for his missing tactician, and gestured for Lissa to lead the way.

It might have been his imagination, but he could have sworn she'd gulped before guiding him to the far side of camp.

"It sure is warm today," Vaike said to no one in particular. "Not that the heat is any match for Teach."

"Vaike," Chrom grumbled a warning. Between the planning, debriefing, and going over the report, he'd had precious little sleep.

"What?" The warrior was all confused innocence. "I was just—"

Chrom held up a hand for silence. What was that sound? It wasn't loud enough to be even a small skirmish, but either someone was under attack or else—

"What did you do?" he demanded as they crested a small rise. A few other Shepherds were gathered nearby in a small knot, glancing at him apprehensively.

"Hey, Teach didn't do anything other than offer up a little friendly competition."

"What sort of—Is that Robin?" Chrom blinked at the sight of his missing tactician swinging her sword wildly at, of all things, a tree. Her back was to them, but even from there, they could hear the crack of iron against wood.

"We aren't really sure," Lissa said with more than a little awe in her voice while they watched the scene below. "She just kind of snapped."

"People don't just kind of snap, Lissa," Chrom said, still struggling to make sense of what he was seeing. Her form had improved, although from where they stood, it wasn't apparent who was winning the rather one-sided argument.

"I think we broke your tactician, Captain," Sully said, coming up from behind.

"Well yeah," Vaike said, "but not on purpose."

Chrom narrowed his eyes, unable to look away from the scene below. "Tell me what happened."

"I might have challenged Robin to a little one on one sparring contest," Vaike admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"With a tree?" Chrom raised a brow.

"I'm afraid, Milord, that the cause of Robin's behavior is not yet clear. It would seem unfair to lay the blame at any one person's feet, no matter how much merit would lie in that assumption."

"Fredrick?" Chrom turned to the knight who was flanked by Miriel and Sumia. If anyone could make sense of the situation, it was him.

"Or rather," Miriel said, adjusting her glasses, "if my observations are correct, it is not so much a matter of a single cause, but a string of reactions to a number of smaller catalysts."

"I knew I should have tried the pie first," Sumia fretted.

"This is because of pie?" Chrom said blankly. Unaccountably, the more information he got, the more confused he became.

Miriel shook her head and patted Sumia's arm in a way that was meant to be comforting, but was too conscious and precise to do more than distract Sumia. "The pie was simply, in layman's terms, the final straw."

"The final straw of what?" Chrom demanded as Fredrick murmured, "Ah."

"And why didn't someone do something?"

Fredrick shifted uncomfortably. "It seemed unwise to intervene at the time."

Chrom pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes locked on the small figure who was a blaze of furious movement. Whatever had set Robin off had to have been big enough that he didn't feel comfortable leaving her to vent her fury on the local flora. She had to be nearing the end of her stamina with the way her strokes were becoming sloppier and the fire in her movements had all but died down.

Sooner or later she was either going to miss or bring the tree down on top of herself. Either way, she could end up getting seriously injured.

"You can all explain yourselves later," he said at last. He fixed each of them with a glare. "And I expect your explanations to be coherent."

They all nodded, some of them a little more shame-faced than others.

"I'm sure this had nothing to do with your pie, Sumia." He waited for her to nod before he started down the incline.

"If you don't mind, I would like to accompany you," Miriel said, one hand securing her hat, and the other held out for balance. "I should like to finalize my observations before formalizing my hypothesis."

"Fine," Chrom gritted out. "The rest of you see to the camp. There's a band of Risen that need dealing with once we've gotten everything in hand here."

He didn't wait to make sure they followed his orders. Instead, he helped Miriel as best he could as they half slid, half trotted down the slope. The last thing he needed was for one or both of them to break their necks on the way down.

By the time they were within hailing distance of Robin, her movements had grown choppier and more sluggish.

Chrom stretched out a hand like he would toward a skittish animal. "Ro—"

Without warning, she hurled her sword at the tree. She bent over, her hands on her knees, and her breath coming in gasps.

"Robin," Chrom tried again, only to tackle Miriel out of the way when Robin snapped upright and whirled around, lightning streaking out from her finger. The flash of hot light narrowly missed them, and ended up zapping the tree right behind them.

"Fascinating," Miriel murmured, adjusting her glasses as he rolled off her.

Robin's eyes widened. Her mouth worked silently before an apology flew from her fingertips.

"Quite," Miriel said, picking herself up and brushing bits of moss and leaves from her robes. She bent down to retrieve her hat.

"Are you all right?" Chrom eyed Robin warily. Her face looked like she'd dragged it across the entirety of the forest floor, and her hair was sticking out at odd angles. Almost as if she, and not the poor tree behind them, had been the one struck by her spell.

The wild look left her eyes as she focused on them.

 _I'm fine._ She crossed her arms as though the slightly smoking pile of ash a few yards away hadn't anything to do with her.

"If I may be permitted a query," Miriel said, a hint of excitement in her voice, "am I correct in assuming that you called forth Thunder without the aid of a tome?"

Robin looked at her blankly before glancing down at her hands. Her fingers curled into her palms as if to hide themselves.

 _Possibly._ She looked more than a little dazed.

"Later, Miriel," Chrom said, slowly circling over to pick up Robin's discarded sword. Despite the gravity of the situation, he was impressed. The sword was little more than a hilt, a cross guard, and a collection of notches.

Clearly her training was paying off.

 _I'll have it repaired_ , she signed, her eyes wide and trained on the remains of her sword. Still, her jaw was set and there was an air of defiance crackling faintly around her.

Chrom gave the sword a few experimental swings. He had only enough time to note that the balance wasn't just off, it had completely gone, before the blade shuddered in defeat and snapped in half.

Robin pressed a hand to her mouth and a look of mortification chased color into her cheeks.

Miriel murmured something as she took notes, and it was apparent she wasn't going to be any help at all.

Chrom studied the stump of the blade in his hand as he wracked his mind for something to say. Though he'd not seen it first hand, he'd grown up hearing tales of soldiers who had broken beneath the unrelenting war his father had waged against Plegia. Yet the Shepherds hadn't seen war, not really. Not yet. And none of the accounts had ever mentioned—

_Chrom._

"The forest can be a dangerous place," he said, his mind not quite keeping pace with his mouth. He made a show of glancing around before finally looking up. He gestured to the small heap of ash and smirked. "Although I see you have everything well in hand."

Her mouth snapped shut and her eyes went flat.

But Robin was herself again. The wildness had gone from her eyes, and she no longer looked like she was on the verge of smiting any more of the trees.

Or so he hoped.

"Are you all right?" he asked again.

Her arms were crossed so tightly, she looked like she was hugging herself. _I told you, I'm fine._

The air about her thickened, and he swallowed his reply.

Not a feral creature then, a wounded one. For a moment he wished he'd brought Lissa along—no, Sumia. Sumia would have known what to do. Instead, he was going to have to make do and hope she couldn't fling magic at them again.

"The tree would beg to differ." He rested a hand on Falchion's hilt and studied her reaction.

She glowered at him. _What tree?_

He gestured to the one behind her and then in the general direction of the one she'd Thundered into ash. "Take your pick."

Her mouth worked silently for a moment, temper deepening the blush in her cheeks, and fury radiating from her every line. Then she sighed and dropped her gaze.

 _I'm fine_ , she repeated, a stubborn bite in her gestures.

"I'm afraid I must side with Chrom in this instance," Miriel said, looking up from the book she'd been scribbling notes into. She tipped her head, and the sunlight glinted off her spectacles as she gestured toward Robin with her quill. "All evidence points rather strongly toward the opposite conclusion."

Robin set her jaw.

"While the regrettable demise of this tree was spurred by an involuntary startle reflex, that one . . ." Miriel gestured to the battle-scarred tree, "That is where the focus of your attentions lie, although it is likely not the source of your frustrations or your fears."

Chrom furrowed his brow as he turned to the mage. "Robin waged war on a tree because she's afraid?"

Robin gritted her teeth. _I told you. I'm fine._

"You needn't take our word alone." Miriel gestured to the top of the rise where a number of the Shepherds lingered.

Until Robin snapped her attention toward them. The line broke, and then they disappeared completely.

 _How long have they been standing there?_ She didn't wail. She couldn't. Yet Chrom could hear it all the same.

He shook his head. "I have no idea."

Robin nodded and abruptly turned away, blinking furiously.

"I think this should conclude my observations." Miriel blew the ink dry. "If you have no more need of my assistance, I should lay out my thoughts while everything is still fresh."

Chrom nodded, waited until he was relatively certain they were alone. "Would you like to talk about it?"

For some reason, Robin's shoulders hunched up even further. He glanced up at the rise again, but if anyone was watching them, they would have had to been invisible.

"Robin—"

She whirled around then, her eyes red and her tears streaking muddy tracks across her cheeks. When she spoke, her fingers were trembling, _You should have left me in the field._

Chrom blinked. How on earth did they get from broken swords and Thundered trees to this? And how did the rest of the Shepherds factor in? Vaike wouldn't have volunteered his innocence unless he was guilty of something.

"I don't understand. Did someone say something or do anything amiss?" He wanted to reach out to her, but she looked agitated enough to throw another Thunder, and Frederick's patience could only stretch so far.

Robin shook her head, tugging at the edges of her coat.

Chrom frowned. Rather than soothing her as he had hoped, he'd only succeeded in worsening her agitation.

Time to change tactics. He thought back to how his sister had handled these types of situations. Emm had always made it look so easy.

"Then help me understand." He rested his hand on Falchion's hilt, reassured by its familiar shape. "What exactly is the problem here?"

Robin's expression turned stricken. Her fingers flashed so quickly, her words turned into a tangled mess of letters. And while he caught maybe one word in five, the source of her troubles was clear.

"Wait. You think you're the problem?"

Robin jerked her head sharply in agreement.

Chrom shook his head. It was as though the whole world had gone mad from the moment Vaike interrupted him this morning.

Or, at the very least, every last Shepherd but him.

He eyed her, weighing her every angle and every tensed muscle. Strangely enough, she seemed poised to fight rather than flight.

So much the better.

Chrom crossed his arms and leaned against a tree. "What a stupid thing to say."

Robin blinked at him, dumbfounded.

"You are in integral part of the Shepherds now, Robin. You've been thrown into troubles not of your making, yet you've consistently guided us safely through. So how exactly are you a problem?"

Her eyes went bright, but she dashed her tears away with her sleeve. _There is so much I lack._ Her fingers twisted with her frustrations.

Chrom raised a brow. "And?"

Robin's lips puckered into a frown. _I'm not strong enough. And I . . ._ Her fingers faltered.

Chrom waved a dismissive hand. "Strength comes with time and experience. Few of the Shepherds have worked as hard as you have in such a short time."

 _But it's not enough to—_ She broke off suddenly and stared down at her boots as if they were the only thing left in the world.

"To what?" Chrom said, pushing his advantage.

For a moment, it didn't look as though Robin planned on answering him. Then she traced a few letters, each one crumbling before she could finish a word.

"Robin?"

She huffed a sigh and looked at him, a blush staining her cheeks a bright cherry red.

 _I don't fit in._ From the way she tilted her chin, she might have been on her way to face her punishment for a crime she didn't regret committing.

For some reason the pride in her defiance made him want to smile.

"Nobody fits in at first, Robin. It takes time. Time," he raised his voice slightly as her fingers twitched to object, "that you haven't really had to accustom yourself to the Shepherds."

She pursed her lips, clearly unhappy with his statement, but unable to find a proper counter.

"Now, about your breaking your promise," he gave her a pointed look, "I'll overlook it this time, but I expect you to keep it in the future."

Robin's anger melted into confusion, and Chrom had to resist the urge to chuckle. It was not often he won an argument of words, and he wasn't about to lose now when victory was so close.

He gestured to the tree with the hilt of Robin's broken sword. "Charging off into battle alone, even if the only enemy you see is yourself." He pushed off the tree and took a few steps in her direction. When she didn't tense, he took a few more." You're part of a family now, Robin. As such, no Shepherd ever has to fight alone."

She nodded absently, and he could almost see the blur of her thoughts racing behind her eyes.

"Will you be all right?"

She nodded, the fury in her movements nearly completely gone.

"Good." He handed her the remains of her sword. "There's a small band of Risen we need to take care of before moving on. But before we set off, there's a small matter I need to attend to, so you should have time to clean up."

She nodded once more, but this time with determination.

They scaled the incline easily enough, and without. Chrom silently thanked Naga that the top of the rise was conspicuously Shepherd-free. It would be much easier to round everybody up that way.

As they stepped into camp, Robin caught Chrom's sleeve.

_Thank you._

He smiled. "Think nothing of it."

She bit the corner of her bottom lip. _I'm sorry. I promise to do better._

He shook his head, but she'd already ghosted away in the direction of her tent.

Which left him to make his way back to his. That there were no Shepherds bustling about the camp, pretending to be busy, told him all he needed to know.

As he reached his tent, he was pleasantly surprised to find all the Shepherds, save one, waiting for him out in front. They would never have all fit, but he wouldn't have put it past them to try.

"So," Lissa said a little too brightly, "everything okay?"

Chrom nodded, managing to keep his expression still. He crossed his arms. "Robin will be fine. The question is how she ended up out there in the first place."

To his surprise, Sumia stepped forward. "I'm afraid it's all my fault, Captain." Her back was straight, but she only managed to make eye contact with him for a moment before she dropped her gaze.

"Not the pies again," Chrom said, determined to make complete sense of this morning if it was the last thing he did. "Sumia, I'm sure that whatever—"

"Actually," Lissa said, toeing the dirt, "Sumia's right. Kind of."

Chrom frowned at his little sister. She was wearing the look she always wore when she'd broken something expensive. "I'm listening."

Lissa twirled her staff behind herself and leaned back on her heels. "Someone might have swapped out the labels for sugar and salt."

Sumia's eyes widened. "So that's what happened!"

"And that someone's purpose would have been?"

"In the name of a harmless little prank?" Lissa scrunched up her shoulders. "Since the morning had started so well with the frog and everything."

"What," Chrom asked with as much restraint as he could muster, "did you do with the frog?"

Lissa's cheeks colored. "Hey! Why'd you blame me? I thought we were dealing in hypotheticals."

"Lissa."

"Oh fine." She huffed before ducking her head again. "Robin looked so tired, so I might have dropped a frog down the back of her shirt to wake her up a little."

Chrom sighed. "And you followed that up with changing the labels?"

Lissa nodded, then sneaked a peek at Sumia. "I'm really sorry, Sumia. I didn't know you were going to bake a pie, and by the time I realized, it was too late."

"It's okay," Sumia said with a smile far more forgiving than Chrom would have been able to manage.

"So you're not mad? Honest?"

Sumia shook her head. "I'm really close to mastering this recipe. And now I know that what happened with my last pie had nothing to do with me."

"Thanks, Sumia," Lissa said. "I really am sorry."

"Right. That's the pie down, now what about your 'friendly little sparring match?'" Chrom turned to Vaike.

"Heh. About that." Vaike rubbed the back of his neck. "I just wanted Robin to know she's one of us."

"Vaike," Lissa groaned, "only you would think a punch to the gut is a warm welcome."

"It hasn't steered me wrong yet," he argued.

Chrom frowned. Was that what Robin had meant when she said she wasn't strong enough?

"Please tell me you didn't actually—"

"What? No!" Vaike straightened. "It was the other way around, I swear!"

So much for clarity of understanding. "Wait. You're telling me Robin punched _you_ in the gut?"

Vaike nodded proudly. "She hit so hard her sword went flying." He scratched his head. "Then she she went all weird and grabbed her stuff and high tailed it back to camp."

Chrom was about to question Vaike a little more when a minor scuffle broke out between Sully and Stahl.

"You have something to add?" He asked after Sully gave Stahl a look that promised the would be a reckoning later on.

But when Sully met his gaze, most of the fire went out of her glower. "Just that Robin might not have been feeling too well during her fight with Vaike."

Chrom narrowed his eyes. "And why would that be?"

Sully kicked a pebble that Frederick had somehow missed. "I might have made her up a pre-supper plate."

"Sully, you didn't!"

"I didn't expect her to eat it." Sully crossed her arms. "I was just having a little fun like I do with all the new recruits. I'm not really sure how it happened, but Stahl says she ended up swallowing a spoonful of the stuff, and well . . ." Sully didn't need to speak to the results. Her ability to transform ordinary food into inedible chunks of charcoal were already a minor legend in the barracks.

"Ah, so that is why Robin looked a little green when I last saw her," Virion mused. He stared past the tents thoughtfully.

It needed to be done, but Chrom was almost afraid to ask. "What was your contribution, Virion?"

The archer in question stiffened with indignation. "I can assure you that I was nothing more than a proper gentleman, as I ever have been."

"Robin didn't say anything to you?" Chrom asked, not quite willing to believe something hadn't gone wrong there.

"Only that she had a meeting to attend."

"I suppose," Frederick said, "that I also bear some responsibility in making Robin feel less welcome than I might."

"Whaddya mean _also_?" Vaike demanded. He gestured to everyone crammed into the space in front of Chrom's tent. "We all did what we usually do when we welcome new recruits."

"Well, except for sabotaging Sumia's pies," Stahl said with a chuckle.

Lissa, forgetting her princessey aspirations for once, stuck her tongue out at him.

Chrom pinched the bridge of his nose. He was starting to wish he there was enough to vent his frustrations on some unsuspecting trees.

"This is truly a most fascinating phenomenon." Miriel adjusted her spectacles as she stepped forward.

How was it possible to feel so drained so early in the day? And they still had that band of Risen to dispatch.

"Miriel?" Chrom said, eyeing the position of the sun. They needed to finish up soon to ensure the Risen didn't make it to the village, but they needed to unite as Shepherds if they were to fight effectively.

"The error, I believe, has been in treating Robin like any other new recruit. While well-meaning, we have erred in our executions."

"Agreed," Frederick said.

"What do you mean?" Lissa asked.

"Robin is far from ordinary, so far as new recruits go." Miriel pulled a small book from her sleeves.

Sully shook her head. "She looks normal to me."

"We've done our best to treat her as one of our own. While some of us might have been a little," Chrom glanced at his sister, "a _lot_ more enthusiastic than others, we've all made it clear that she's family."

Miriel raised a finger. "Therein lies the foundations of our problem."

"Treating her like family is a problem?" Stahl asked, furrowing his brow.

"Ordinarily no." Miriel flipped through the pages of her book. "The variable we have all overlooked is Robin's amnesia. No matter if she has family somewhere or other, to her, they effectively ceased to exist once her memories of them vanished. The world as it is, for all she remembers, is bewildering and foreign and completely without precedence."

Vaike scratched his head before uttering what most of them had been thinking. "Huh?"

"Simply put, what does family look like to someone who has no memory of what a family is?"

Miriel's words were a punch to the gut, and from everyone else's expressions, Chrom didn't think he was the only one who felt that way.

"So what do we do?" he asked. Now that he thought on it, anyone being thrown into things the way Robin had would have been overwhelmed—and that was before facing down the frogs or Sully's cooking.

A heavy silence fell over them, and even Vaike looked deep in thought.

"I think I might have an idea, Captain," Sumia said, blushing and dropping her gaze once everyone turned to look at her.

"Well, Sumia?" He gave her an encouraging smile that only seemed to fluster her even further.

She glanced around nervously before gesturing for them all to close in. And then, once she was sure they weren't in any danger of Robin stumbling upon them, she laid out a plan that reminded Chrom why the Shepherds were making such a difference to Ylisse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The very first scene that came to me was Robin taking her frustrations out on a poor, innocent tree. I was almost as in the dark as Chrom. Then I got to thinking, later on, about something Chrom had said earlier about new recruits breaking. Even more so when you figure that Robin is basically being thrust in a world that is completely foreign to her without really being granted any time to sit still and adjust.
> 
> And then I realized that this was very much tied into family bonds. Robin doesn't have any that she remembers, and the only real example of family she's had (that she recognizes as such) is Chrom, Lissa, and Emmeryn. As such, she would have been completely unprepared for what was to come.
> 
> I'm really looking forward to implementing Sumia's plan, especially since we're just about to arrive at Regna Ferox. This will be the first time that they all set about deliberately strengthening their bonds together.
> 
> And I can't wait to get to the next few chapters. Frederick is indeed hiding something . . . :)
> 
> Mirrored from FF.net.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

Robin squinted down at the page she was attempting to read. While the writing was beautiful, the flourishes had flourishes, which made actually reading it a bit of a chore.

It didn't help any that the weather had turned chilly and her fingers were stiff with the cold.

"So, hey."

A shadow fell across her page. Frowning, Robin glanced up, surprised to see Sully. The cavalier and Slayer of All That Is Edible loomed over her with a hand on her hip.

Robin blinked up at her before scrambling to her feet. Standing didn't really add that much to her height, but it did make her feel taller. She gave Sully a tentative wave, hoping that she wasn't about to be surprised with an impromptu breakfast.

She really should have stopped by the mess tent earlier.

"I just wanted to give this to you before we break camp," Sully said, all gruff business as she thrust a bit of vellum at Robin. Having accomplished her mission, she nodded and sauntered off toward the wagons.

Robin stared after her, trying to make sense of their exchange. When nothing came to mind, her gaze fell on the scrap of vellum in her hand. Freckled with ink spots, it appeared as though someone had drawn a table that had a head at one end and some kind of long fringe along the other end.

And then her eyes snagged on blocky letters that declared the thing a "horse."

Brows knit in confusion, Robin looked up, but Sully was nowhere to be found. She glanced down at the vellum once more, realizing there were a few faint lines indicating there was more on the back.

Flipping the scrap over, her eyes widened. Though the drawing was crude, she could make out what looked like fingers forming an ear by the temple and flicking down with two fingers. Exactly the way Brazen Thunder's ears did when she was particularly unimpressed. Then, Robin squinted at the diagram, it looked like the two fingers that flicked down then made a vaguely 's' shaped curve away from the temples. Almost like a horse tail swishing at some invisible irritant.

Just as Brazen Thunder's did when she was annoyed—which was often.

But why . . .

Robin's thoughts collided inside her head as they all reached the same conclusion. Sully hadn't given her a few rudimentary drawings, she'd given her a word.

_Horse_.

She practiced the sign a few times, delighting in the simple movements. They couldn't have meant anything else but _horse_. And, by extension, Brazen Thunder.

Slipping her hand into her pocket, Robin retrieved the book that she used to store words in. She'd meant to have it filled at least halfway by now, but with all her new duties and responsibilities, she'd only managed to fill in a few pages.

Well, that was about to change.

Robin sat back down on the ground, blew on her fingers, smoothed the vellum over her knee, and painstakingly traced Sully's word into her book.

Once she was finished, she canted her head and admired the latest entry.

Although her and Sully's conversation would be limited to a single word, it was still one word more than it had been previously. The thought settled on her like sunshine.

Warm, beautiful sunshine.

"You're looking awfully happy this morning," Chrom greeted her. He held out the plate he'd been carrying. "Sleep well?"

She ducked her head and accepted the plate. Her nights had been restless the entire march, but she thought she'd done a better job at hiding it. Apparently not, if Chrom had noticed.

_You?_

He sat down next to her and leaned back on his hands. "Well enough, and you didn't answer my question."

Chrom gave her a pointed look just as she shoved half a piece of toast into her mouth.

Brushing the crumbs from her fingers, Robin considered her answer. By the time she collapsed in her tent every night, her mind was still churning through all the things she'd learned and all the many things that needed doing.

It was only after her mind calmed down that the heart of her problem manifested. But how could she tell Chrom that the thing she feared most of all were the dreams she only half remembered upon awakening? She felt foolish just thinking about it.

_Well enough_. And it wasn't a lie. She was sleeping just enough to get by. Robin thought longingly of her alcove back in Ylisstol. Being surrounded by words and dust and old leather had had a calming effect on her dreams.

Chrom shook his head. "For your sake, I hope so."

Robin was just about to demand an explanation, when Lissa bounced over.

"Heya, Robin!"

Robin returned the greeting, albeit with less bounce. After traveling for nearly a fortnight straight, Robin had become resigned to mornings. They were every bit as inevitable as the mounting chill in the air, and just as welcome.

"Good to see you're remembering to eat." Lissa pinned them both with a knowing look that was three-quarters sunshine and one-quarter scary.

Robin smiled weakly and nodded. She darted a glance at Chrom, and was surprised to find a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

"Well, eat up. Frederick said we're leaving soon." Lissa twirled her staff as she spoke, the very picture of innocence. "Oh, yeah. I wanted to give you this before we head out."

Lissa dropped a piece of folded vellum into Robin's lap before she favored them with a cheery wave and skipped off.

Robin stuffed the rest of the toast into her mouth and set her plate aside. She unfolded the paper, grateful that it was small enough that even Lissa couldn't have found room to conceal a frog within it.

Or maybe not.

_Frog._

And beside that was, well, Robin wasn't exactly sure what it was, but it seemed to be a hand with its fingers curled loosely toward the palm. The second picture was a little clearer. It looked like she needed to flick two of her fingers out. She shivered a little. The movement reminded her exactly of how it had felt when the panicked frog had tried kicking its way free of the back of her shirt.

But this was a new word. A gift from Lissa. So Robin did the only thing she could, she held the vellum in one hand while she tried to mimic Lissa's directions with the other.

It only took a few tries for her to get the hang of it. And a few more before she quit shuddering every time she flicked her fingers out.

"My sister didn't just hex you, did she?"

Robin startled at Chrom's voice. For a moment, the world had narrowed to a single word . . .

"Robin?"

A hot blush warmed her cheeks as she realized Chrom had been watching her. Her blush burned a little brighter when she thought about how she must have looked.

She waved her hands and shook her head. _No! It's nothing like that_.

"Right." He didn't laugh, although his eyes betrayed him. "So what was it then?"

Robin tapped her chin. Two words in a single morning? Coincidence? Perhaps. Although . . .

She offered the folded vellum to Chrom. Then signed the word while mouthing, 'frog' slowly and distinctly.

He studied the diagram for a moment. When he looked up at her again, his eyes were still shining, but with something other than laughter.

"Lissa's favorite stories were always fairy tales." He handed the word back to her and sat up straight. "Emm's too, although she wouldn't admit it."

Robin leaned forward. For some reason the question intrigued her. _And yours?_

Chrom laughed and shook his head. "I'm afraid I preferred the heroics of history to fairy stories. Although I did enjoy any tale that had dragons in it."

She smiled as she transcribed the new word into her book. It wasn't hard to picture Chrom dashing off to rescue some poor damsel in distress. He wouldn't have thought twice about throwing himself at a dragon if it meant saving the day.

"What about you? You've done enough reading in the last few weeks to have found a favorite or two."

Robin sighed as she put her book and ink away. _Not really_.

Chrom gave her an incredulous look.

She tapped her head. _Busy catching up on the last five hundred years or so_.

"We're ready when you are, Milord."

Robin whirled around, heart beating hard. Frederick nodded in greeting, but otherwise remained the usual impassive mountain of silver and blue he preferred to be.

"Right." Chrom stood and dusted himself off, a captain once more. He held out his hand to Robin. "Ready?"

She slipped her empty plate into an outer pocket and allowed him to help her to her feet.

They made their way over to where everyone waited. Chrom went to the head of their column. Robin moved to take her place, but Frederick put out a hand to stop her.

Clearing his throat, he presented her with what looked to be official papers of some sort, wax seal and all. When she raised a brow, he cleared his throat again.

"I hope my contribution is helpful." He executed a short bow before hurrying to take his place.

Robin stared blankly after him. What was all that about?

"Hi, Robin." Sumia said.

Robin shrugged and placed the papers in one of her coat's inner pockets as Sumia joined her. She could look over them later. Or at least before this leg of the journey ended.

"All set for the brand new day?"

The air turned colder with every step they took to the north. The marches were long and taxing—though growing less so a day at a time. She was still trying to find her place by keeping her trust in Chrom.

Robin slipped one hand into the pocket that held her collection of words, and the other with the papers Frederick had given her.

Then she returned Sumia's smile.

_Yes_.

* * *

Two days.

In two days, they'd reach the beginning of their final destination.

Robin huddled next to the fire, her coat and an extra cloak wrapped tightly about her. Her nose had long ago lost all feeling, and her fingertips were all pincushions and needles.

"You are not accustomed to the cold." Miriel was wearing a cloak, just as everyone else was, but she didn't look particularly bothered by the weather. She shook her head when Robin reached for her desk. "There is no need for that. I've been studying your hand signals and have grown quite adept at understanding their meanings."

The cold had stiffened her fingers to the point that Robin was certain she was going to have to wait for whatever passed for the spring thaw in this misbegotten place of eternal winter to have full use of them again.

The books had understated the frigid temperature this close to the border. If anything, they'd romanticized it. Dancing on ice, the beauty of ice storms, pristine rivers that flowed fast enough to avoid being frozen, and snow capped mountains were all lovely things until a person had to trudge through all the icy wonders.

Personally.

"These might be of some use." Miriel pulled two stones out of her pocket. She tapped each one and murmured something that caused the flames of the fire to bend toward her for a moment.

Whatever she had said also caused each stone to glow a brilliant gold.

She handed them to Robin, who accepted them warily at first. Then greedily as the warmth radiating from the stones seeped into her aching fingers.

_Thank you. These are wonderful._

"It was no trouble," Miriel said, waving off the compliment, although a gleam of pride shone in her eyes. "Merely the application of a simple Fire spell that has been modified so as to create a power loop that allows the magic to cycle rather than disburse once the initial spell has been cast."

Robin nodded her head and smiled. Miriel could have spoken Feroxian, and might as well have been for all intents and purposes, and she would have happily agreed to anything the mage said.

The stones were warm, which meant she was warm. Which meant that she had been pulled back from the brink of her icy demise.

"Which brings me to the purpose of my visit." Miriel reached into her sleeves and pulled out a small book that was as thick as it was wide. "I'm afraid that I had difficulty in choosing a single word. When I considered both your position and your natural aptitudes, I concluded that thoroughness had a distinct advantage over brevity."

Robin stuffed a stone into two of her inner pockets so she could accept the book from Miriel. She flipped through the pages, her eyes widening. Written in precise strokes, Miriel had given her a dictionary filled with words—most of them related to magic, but not all. The breadth and scope of all the thought and work that had gone into it stole her breath and filled her heart until her chest was tight with a strange feeling that made her want to laugh and cry at the same time.

Her first few attempts at thanking Miriel crumbled away as she tried to find the words to express the enormity of the feeling warming her heart and planting a fiery gob in her throat.

She finally settled on, _Thank you_. Then, because she had to know, _Miriel, do you know anything about . . ._ How to phrase this diplomatically? To express both curiosity and gratitude without the one overshadowing the other.

"I think that is a question best reserved for our captain." Miriel folded her hands into her sleeves and her lips twitched into the suggestion of a smile. "While I could describe the technicalities with far more precision and exactness, I believe he is better suited to explain what is at the heart."

Then she bowed her head and bade her a good night.

Robin stared after her, silently debating with herself. By now, nearly every Shepherd had given her at least one word. Sumia had even included a pie with the three words—pegasus, pie, and flower—she written carefully on a sheet of vellum.

And then there was Miriel's book.

Would it be rude of her to inquire? _Had_ she been rude in asking Miriel? Should she just accept her good fortune and the kindness of others with no thought beyond gratitude?

Or could she honor their efforts with efforts of her own?

Robin stood slowly, continuing the debate the whole way up. The words they'd given her were precious. She didn't want to lose the words—or the camaraderie she was starting to sense beneath each painstakingly drawn gesture.

In the end, it was her feet that decided for her.

She stared at the front of Chrom's tent, shifting her weight from her left foot to her right foot, and back again. Weighing each option. The easy way beckoned, but something inside her seemed to have a natural distrust of anything that looked to easy.

"Er, Robin, are you lost?"

Heart hammering against her chest, Robin whirled around. Chrom smiled as he rubbed the back of his neck.

_Chrom_.

Way to state the obvious, she chided herself. She took a deep breath, let it fill her, and then exhaled.

"Robin." Chrom managed to keep his expression serious, although she could see signs of the tell tale crinkles in the corners of his eyes.

_I have a question_. Her fingers tangled themselves in the letters. Why were her hands shaking? Did she truly have something to fear?

"Here, you're probably freezing." Chrom pulled his gloves off. He handed them to her before gesturing back the way she had come. "Put those on. Why don't we sit by the fire?"

Robin slipped her hands into the gloves, surprised at how big they were. She followed Chrom back to the fire, a small part of her wishing she'd slept on it before she'd proceeded to act.

Maybe there was no problem. No risk. Maybe the answer was as simple as all of the Shepherds just wanting to help. It didn't have to be any bigger than that. So why had she made—

"All right." Chrom sat on the ground and leaned against the log someone had dragged over earlier that evening. He waited for her to perch on the edge of it, every muscle taut. "I'll do my best to answer whatever questions you might have."

Her fingers fluttered in her lap, never quite settling on a single word.

When she didn't speak, Chrom sat up. "Why don't we start with an easy one? The tent you were standing in front of was mine. Your turn."

Despite her courage being as stiff as day old gruel, Robin laughed.

"See?" His expression relaxed and he leaned back. "That wasn't difficult at all."

Robin shook her head. If she couldn't find the words in her courage, she'd just have to let the words speak for themselves. She reached into her pockets and pulled out every scrap, every bundle of words she'd been gifted with over the course of their journey.

"What are these?" He asked as she handed them to him.

Something in his manner eased her enough that she could smile again.

_I thought you were the one with all the answers_.

The grin he gave her was surprisingly boyish. "And I thought you were the one who had all the questions. And for the record, I have no idea where your tent is."

Robin stifled her laugh and held out her hands. He handed them back to her, his brow raised. She stroked the papers gently, gathering her courage despite having no backup plan.

_They're words_.

"Words?"

She nodded, tracing her finger against the cover of Miriel's book. _They've all given me at least one. Do you know why?_

Chrom leaned back and pillowed his head with one arm. He tipped his chin back as if to divine an answer from the sky.

"Do you remember anything of your family?" His tone was light, but it seemed to her that each word had been chosen with uncommon care.

_No_.

The word hurt more than it should have.

He nodded as though that had been a perfectly ordinary thing to say. "Do you have anything from before?"

Robin shook her head, then went still. Her hand went to the pocket she kept the book and pendants in. She drew them out, and they glinted with the firelight.

Strangely, she could almost feel a kind of heat permeate through the gloves to sit flush against her hands. It was only then, when she realized she was staring hard at the back of her right hand, that she remembered to breathe.

The mark, hidden beneath two layers of gloves, was silent.

But why had she—

"It's beautiful," Chrom murmured.

Robin canted her head to the side, oddly self-conscious, as if the book were somehow an extension to herself.

"Is there anything inside about your past?"

She pressed her hands against the cover. _I don't know_.

Chrom didn't say anything for a while, seemingly content with the snap and crackle of the fire. Robin fretted with the cover of her book, tracing the curves and lines carved through the soft leather, as if that act alone could eat the silence.

"Family sees us at our best and at our worst. It acts as our strength, our anchor, binding us together against all else." He dared a brief glance at her from the corner of his eye. "Family sees our weakness, but doesn't exploit it."

Robin nodded to show she was listening, blinking away the traitorous tears pooling in her eyes. Why did she have such a vast nothingness where her family ought to be? And why did she feel that her loss was one that had twisted in on itself?

"Robin, about the other day." Chrom paused, measuring his words. "Well, the why behind the actions are individual to each, but the actions themselves were meant to be a welcome. To our family."

She froze in place. The vivid image of herself waging a rather one-sided fight with a tree burnt a blush into her cheeks. To ease the sting of the memory, she turned her book over in her hands, and then tried to open it.

_It's locked_.

Surprise banished her mortification. No lock nor strap adorned the cover, and yet try as she might, it remained stubbornly closed.

"Do you have the key?"

She shook her head, but without any real conviction. Now that she thought on it, the grooves on the cover were a familiar shape. She frowned down at them, distracted by the way the fire glinted gold against the silver of the pendants.

The pendants.

A faraway tune played in her head, too faint to make out, but undeniably there. Almost as if in a dream, she turned the first pendant around, eyes marking the place where the grooves would fit against its outline.

The pendant slipped into place, almost eagerly.

There was a moment of silence. Of perfect stillness. Then the fire suddenly flared, crackling at the bright blue stones that twinkled against their settings. Stones she could have sworn that hadn't been there before.

Robin turned toward Chrom, the question on her fingertips, but she made the mistake of glancing at the fire first.

Her gaze tangled itself inside the flames until they drew her in. Panic beat on silver wings, thrashing against her rib cage, but the terror passed as she realized that while the flames danced in bright ribbons of orange all about her, none of them had bitten her.

They weren't hungry, these flames.

With her recognition, the fire sighed into gentle curves and straight lines. With the fire whispering softly in a language that was at once both achingly familiar and completely foreign, she leaned forward to grasp the shape from the heart of the flames.

A small harp traced itself against her fingers, nudging at them, urging them to dance across the strings.

The first note she plucked reverberated through the air, striking against something in her very core. The sound welled up in her chest, sent tendrils up her throat, until words fell from her lips as flowers in full bloom.

They scattered on the breeze as her fingers moved without hesitation across the strings.

" _In ancient times, before the curse_

_Marked itself upon dragonkind._

_Those of ice dwelt upon snowy peaks_

_Twixt the place where all paths wind._

_They might have lived there evermore,_

_Content in all their glory_

_But for a single mortal thief_

_From whence begins the story._

_He crept into their palaces high,_

_When silver moon hid her face_

_Against the darkest night._

_And plucked from the sky_

_Their most glorious treasure,_

_Save for the gift of flight._

_A snow white flower in his hand,_

_He fled the walls of anguished stone._

_Deaf to the cries of ice and snow,_

_Of all ice dragons, and they alone._

_For never had they thought to fear,_

_A mortal man, drawing near._

_In their arrogance and strife,_

_They lost their gift,_

_The gift of life."_

The final word lingered on her lips. Then it fell, a bright flower, burning itself into cinders before it melted into the breeze and was gone.

With its passing, the fire sighed once more and the harp slipped through her fingers back into the heart of the fire. As it left her, it took with it most of her strength, reminding her how tired she really was.

Robin blinked, surprised to find she had been crying. Then sagged in place. The fire had given, but it had also taken, and she wasn't certain that the exchange had been fair.

An arm formed itself around her shoulders, supporting her as her strength continued to diminish.

The breeze teased itself through her hair, bringing with it her name.

"Robin."

She steadied herself against the word. Turned away from the fire and the promise it held. She had been foolish to enter into a bargain without knowing the price beforehand.

"Robin."

A sea of blue swam before her. Resolved itself into a face a few inches from her own.

Chrom.

The memory of his name came from a place deeper than the fire.

His name was Chrom.

Her lips shaped his name, but the fiery blossoms had all gone, taking her voice with them.

The loss of it shook her from her dream.

_Chrom, I . . ._

"You spoke," he said, his voice hoarse as he stared at her in wonder.

She shook her head and frowned. The voice had felt like her own, but the words . . .

Robin dropped her gaze to the book, surprised to find it open in her lap. A few pages fluttered as the fire colored magic faded away, leaving the edges of the book faintly toasted.

Encouraged, Robin tried to flip past the loose pages, but found the rest of the book stubbornly clinging to its secrets as it had before. Only the first tale, _The Man Who Stole Life_ , allowed her to read its fire darkened words.

"Robin," Chrom took hold of her shoulders as if to convince himself she that she was still there, "what just happened?"

She shook her head again. _I don't know_.

Just like everything else about her that had happened before she woke up in the field.

"That was . . . I don't know what that was."

"Seriously, Chrom? That was amazing!" Lissa gave Robin a friendly jab in the side. "Why didn't you tell us you could sing like that?"

As though struck by Thoron, Robin and Chrom sprang apart. Robin's mouth went dry when she realized the Shepherds had all gathered around the campfire.

How long had they been sitting there?

In the interest of giving herself something else to focus on, she shut the book and slipped it, the pendants, and all her words back into her pocket. She'd sort everything else out later.

"Milord?"

"Can you sing anything else?" Lissa pressed. At some point, she'd seated herself next to Robin.

_I don't know_ , Robin admitted. Where were the brigands when you needed them? Or the Risen? She could go for a good skirmish at the moment, even though her muscles seemed to have turned to lead.

She shivered. Frozen lead.

"Well?" Lissa wrapped her arms around her knees before burrowing into her cloak.

_You want me to try? Now?_

"Lissa, I don't think—"

"Button it. You got to hear the whole thing. I came in somewhere near the middle."

Robin focused all her attention on her hands, or rather, the gloves her fingers were drowning in. Every instinct she possessed urged her to run fast and run far. To her consternation, she found that there was a small part of her that wanted to stay.

A small part that was steadily growing larger.

Even now, when she'd disrupted their sleep, no one looked particularly upset. In fact, Vaike had already gone back to sleep and was snoring where he was curled up across the fire. As for Frederick, well, Frederick was always frowning.

And every word they'd given her weighed heavy in her pocket.

Urging her to stay.

Even if it meant dealing with a bag full of insecurities pinned uncomfortably tight against her heart.

Robin glanced at Chrom. He was the captain. He'd know what to do. So why did he look almost as lost as she felt?

"Milord," Frederick repeated.

Chrom shook his head and his eyes cleared. He reached around Robin and tweaked his sister's pigtails. "Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"Good idea. I'm heading back to bed," Sully said over Lissa's indignant squeaks. "Night all."

"I'll get Vaike to his tent." Stahl stood and stretched. He offered Robin a friendly smile. "Thanks for the song, Robin. It was nice."

"If you wouldn't mind," Miriel's spectacles glowed with the firelight, "I would very much like to attempt to recreate the enchantment. I've never observed this type of magic before."

"Can it wait until after we've completed our mission?" Frederick asked. "The border is not far, and our responsibilities to both the Exalt and Ylisse must take first priority."

"Of course," Miriel said, although Robin could detect just a hint of disappointment. With that, the mage bid them good night.

"Such beauty is rarely seen." Virion stepped out of the shadows, although how she'd missed seeing him before, she had no idea. He was dressed in a long sleeping gown, complete with cap, that was such a pure white that it illuminated itself against the night.

Robin's smile grew a little more strained. After her impromptu display of magic, she wasn't sure she could deal with poetry.

"See, Chrom?" Lissa said with a huff. "Even Virion knows beauty when he sees it."

Robin shot a glare at Lissa. Virion most certainly did not need any encouragement to start spouting any more poetry. But the princess in question was too busy making faces at her brother to properly attend.

Frederick crossed his arms. "Be that as it may, it would be better for all of us if we get a good night's sleep."

Lissa opened her mouth to argue, saw his expression, and thought the better of it.

"C'mon, Sumia. Some people get cranky if they don't get enough sleep." Lissa gave Frederick a meaningful look that he pretended not to see.

"Good night everyone." Sumia managed a wave before Lissa dragged her away.

Robin got to her feet—at least that had been the idea. Chrom managed to catch her before she pitched face first into the unforgiving ground.

"We both know you're not all right, so don't waste your strength trying to tell me you're fine," Chrom said when he noticed her struggling to sketch out an apology—and yes, insist that all was well.

Because it was and so was she, even if all her muscles seemed to have turned to water.

"Are you injured?" Frederick's voice came at once very close and yet faraway.

Robin shook her head, but gave up halfway through. Her head fell forward and trying to keep her eyes open was like turning a river from its course with a spoon that had holes in it.

She heard Chrom murmur something, but her mind couldn't make sense of the sounds. Instead, she spiraled deeper into the dark where it was cool and soft and . . .

. . . Full of dragons that filled the sky with a peculiar song. They wove through the air and each other in a dance that strengthened their icy pillars, causing the pillars to lengthen and to grow.

Yet even here she could barely keep her eyes open. And she lost the battle entirely just before the crystalline pillars pierced the sky.

* * *

Wrapped inside the deepest midnight, Robin came to herself as the world lurched sharply.

Her eyes flew open, but she couldn't make sense of what she was seeing. The way the ground shook and rattled made it hard to concentrate on much of anything beyond the bone jarring movement.

"Oh, good. You're awake!" Lissa beamed at her like the unrelenting sunshine she was. "Don't worry. You're not blue anymore."

Not.

Blue.

Anymore?

The words . . . She understood them, even though she had no idea what they meant.

Robin tried to sit up, but she was knocked off balance when the ground bounced suddenly, and then pinned in place by Lissa's healing staff.

"Oh, no you don't. Chrom placed you directly under my care, which means you get to rest until I say so." Lissa poked her firmly, but gently, to round out her point. "Healer's privilege."

Had Lissa always been so bossy? Robin would have liked to argue the point, but the truth was she felt like mushy, over cooked gruel.

_So, blue, huh?_ She shifted to get more comfortable. Now that she was properly awake, she recognized the dim interior and oddly shaped shadows of the interior of one of the wagons.

"Yep." Lissa frowned at her. "The only time I've ever seen my brother panic like that is when one of the ladies at court corners him. You want to tell me what happened?"

_I was hoping you could tell me_. But Robin had hardly finished the thought before faint memories of snow and ice and sinewy blue shapes played out in her mind's eye.

Lissa shrugged. "There's not much to tell. Apparently you turned blue with cold. I think it was the patches of frost on your face that scared Chrom the most."

Despite the likelihood that there was nothing left to find, Robin put a hand to her cheeks. The song of the ice dragons filled her head and pulsed through her blood. The memory of her earlier flight was still vivid enough that she could almost feel edge of the wind scoring her face.

"That and you wouldn't wake up." Lissa's brow puckered with her frown. "Between Fire and whatever icy magic you used last night, you should probably steer clear of magic that messes with the temperature."

_You're probably right_. But with the taste of magic still fresh, Robin wasn't sure she could keep that promise—even if she wanted to.

It had been . . . Well, to echo Chrom, she wasn't sure what it had been.

"Of course I am." Lissa twirled her staff, only to grimace when it smacked against the side of the wagon. She rubbed her thumb over the gem to make sure it hadn't cracked.

Robin shook her head as she settled deeper into the nest they'd made for her. Lissa was a rare sun blossom. The court might have been a bed of roses, but all those roses had thorns.

But not Lissa. With her bright yellow petals, she made you smile just by being there. Even when she traded princessing for healing.

Perhaps especially then.

"Uh, Robin?" Lissa glanced around, then ducked her head. "What was it? The magic you used to sing the story?"

Robin sighed. If there was one thing that irritated her the most, it was unknown variables.

And her life was one unknown variable after the next.

_I don't know. Something from before. Maybe_.

"Oh."

Something in Lissa's voice made her sit up, even at the risk of being jabbed with that staff of hers again.

_Why?_

Lissa shrugged. She kept her eyes on her hands, and something about her posture suggested she was turtling in. "I dunno. It was just . . . nice. Unbelievable, actually. It was like I was there watching the story as it happened. I've never seen an ice dragon, or even a thief, but I know exactly what they looked like. Crazy, huh?"

Robin rubbed her thumb against the side of her finger, thinking. The youngest princess of the halidom had just offered her a riddle without realizing it.

_Nice how?_ Robin stared at her expectantly. Lissa wasn't the only one who could pin things down.

For some reason, her question caused Lissa to retreat even further. "You know, it's magic."

Robin frowned at her. The magic and the wonder were like Chrom's gloves. Distracting, but nice and warm.

_People don't usually describe magic as nice_.

"I dunno. I just—Chrom and Emm tell me about it sometimes. And I just thought that the song magic must be like that, you know?"

The ice must have done irreparable damage to her brain, because Robin had no idea what Lissa was talking about.

_What do Chrom and Emm tell you about?_

Lissa shrugged, her voice little more than a murmur. "Before I was born. When our mother was alive."

Ah.

_She told them stories?_

"And—and sang to them. Lullabies." Lissa sighed. "I can't really complain. Emm sang to me when I was little, and Chrom told some of the best—and weirdest—stories, but . . ."

_They weren't your mother_.

Lissa didn't say anything. She just shook her head.

Robin plucked at the gloves, at a loss for words. There was a mother-shaped ache in the corner of her heart. But no name. No face. No idea what the edges of the ache even looked like.

But that was the wonder of magic, wasn't it? That Lissa could find her mother in a story filled with ice and snow and dragons.

A mother she had never even met. Not really.

And that Lissa's heartache could waken her own. Was magic contagious? Miriel would probably know.

Robin reached inside her pocket and brushed her fingers against her book.

_I can't replace your mother. Or Emmeryn. Or Chrom. But that tale wasn't the last one. It was the first._

Lissa's eyes widened at the unspoken invitation. "Really?" Then she frowned. "We should probably wait until after. Chrom would kill me if the magic knocked you unconscious when we're supposed to be mending fences with Ferox."

_Are you sure?_

Lissa smiled, looking more like herself. "Yeah. But thank you for the offer."

Robin nodded and let the book fall back into her pocket. Then, despite every instinct clamoring for her to get up and get out of the wagon so she could march to Regna Ferox on her own two feet, she burrowed into the blankets and went back to sleep.

She dreamed of dragons with scales glittering all the shades of the sky. Their lithe figures dancing through the air while sun blossoms fell in a gentle golden rain.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's a good thing Chrom's favorite stories all have dragons in them. :p
> 
> So yay! I've been waiting to introduce another faucet of Robin's magic since the story began. There will be more, and the stories will all interweave the lore from the post game dungeon thingimabob from Echoes. I also plan to weave another shard from a different Fire Emblem game. Not having played said game, there will definitely be some artistic liberties taken.
> 
> This is also the first step to finding Robin's voice. No worries on that front though. Even though they eventually unravel the riddle behind her voice, using it comes with a price, so she'll still be using signs most of the time. This is especially true when they unravel the riddle of her origins. That won't come until after Plegia, however.
> 
> And yay! We come upon the wall in the next chapter. They were supposed to reach Regna Ferox this chapter, but certain characters *glares* (you know who you are), nudged the story a little longer in other directions. Despite authorial dissent, I'm happy with how the chapter turned out. The Shepherds needed a little more glue before they battle in the arena.
> 
> As always, thank you to all you who have read, followed, reviewed, etc. You guys are awesome!


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

Robin hadn't meant to upset the pegasus. In fact, she hadn't meant to do anything other than stretch her legs before they started their march for the day.

And she certainly hadn't expected a pegasus to be anywhere near their camp.

Which just went to show how far one could get with intentions and expectations.

She backed away slowly, arms raised to protect her head in case she was struck by a hoof or four. Lissa had only just lifted her restrictions, and Robin had no intention of ending up in the wagon again.

The pegasus, meanwhile, was not placated by her retreat. If anything, it grew more agitated. Its mane flew about its head and it's eyes were so wide they'd become mostly whites.

Robin, knowing nothing about pegasi beyond their flight capability, took this to mean that things were going from bad to worse.

She darted a glance over her shoulder, but the only thing behind her were trees. Why had she gone off on her own? Why hadn't she stayed with the others and snuck in a few more chapters of blood feuds?

The pegasus, no longer content with trying to kick her, reared back, making a horrible sound that she wouldn't have thought could be made unless one was having ones arms—or wings—forcefully removed.

Repeatedly.

Clapping her hands over her ears, Robin glowered at the creature as she continued to back away.

Just a little bit further and, if she was lucky, the path would bend and remove her from the pegasus's line of vision. And if she were very lucky, that would happen before the deranged creature went back to trying to trample her to death.

"Oh dear! Oh dear!" The words, softly spoken, accompanied the sound of pounding feet. A flash of pink appeared in the corner of her eye.

Sumia!

Unable to call out a warning, Robin leaped toward her friend, mentally cursing pegasi everywhere. The intent had been to tackle her in a safe zone, but Sumia, running with unnatural grace, put on a burst of speed and darted past her, and all Robin ended up tackling was a small tufted weed.

She lay prone on the ground, the wind knocked out of her, and the weed flattened beneath her. Then her breath came back and her body began its long list of complaints.

Gasping, Robin ignored the pain and pushed herself up. Sumia was standing just out of reach as though mesmerized, and Robin didn't intend to let her get any closer.

"What on ear—wow! Chrom, look!"

Robin staggered to her feet and glanced over her shoulder. Lissa was jumping up and down and pointing while Chrom was frowning, one hand on Falchion.

"A wild pegasus," he breathed. His gaze darted to Robin who had been signally frantically to stay back from the crazed beast. "Robin, what are you—"

Catching a flash of movement from the corner of her eye, Robin whirled around and sprinted toward Sumia.

Only to be clipped on the shoulder by the very ends of the pegasus's wingtips. The force of the blow knocked her back a few steps into Chrom who had appeared as if by magic directly behind her.

Sumia had managed to duck under the wing, and had pressed herself against the side of the raging pegasus. She held its head with both hands and seemed to be singing some sort of lullaby.

"Sumia!" Lissa called.

Robin, noting the position of her staff, caught Lissa by the sleeve before she did anything heroic. She was their only healer at the moment, and Robin was determined to keep her promise—deranged demon spawn or no.

"It's all right," Sumia called. The pegasus had calmed down enough that she could rub one of her hands against its cheek.

It took only a few moments more before the pegasus quieted entirely.

"That was incredible, Sumia!" Lissa cried, her pigtails bouncing with her movements.

Chrom nodded. "I've never seen the like."

Robin could only shake her head. Now that the pegasus wasn't out to commit murder, it was actually quite an impressive beast.

"Oh, it's nothing." Sumia ducked her head as a blush stained her cheeks. "She was just scared and hurt, that's all."

She?

Robin shook her head again. What Sumia had done wasn't nothing. It was—She moved to brush her hair out of her face, but when she'd tried to lift her arm, she met with resistance. It was then that she realized she had been leaning into Chrom, and he was still gripping her upper arms where he'd caught her.

When she looked up at him, his eyes widened and he released her as though she'd attempted another Fire spell that agreed with her as much as the first one had.

"Well, good thing you've got a healer on hand," Lissa said, swinging her staff. "Where should I—"

"That's okay," Sumia yelped as the pegasus whinnied and shook her head, hooves flashing as they struck at the dirt. "I have a kit in my pack, if you wouldn't mind bringing it to me."

"Sumia," Chrom frowned, "I'm not certain you should—"

Sumia shook her head and stroked the pegasus's cheek. "It's all right, Captain. She won't hurt me. I can do this."

Chrom opened his mouth, then reconsidered after Robin jabbed him with her elbow.

"Right. Lissa, you fetch the kit and I'll let Frederick know we're going to delay breaking camp for a little longer."

Lissa gave her brother a cheeky salute before dashing off toward camp. He smiled and shook his head.

"Oh, that won't be necessary, Captain." Sumia had succeeded in calming the pegasus once more. She gently combed her fingers through the tangled mane while keeping one arm around the pegasus's neck. "It should only take me a few hours to attend to her properly, so I should be able to catch up quickly."

Robin had an argument on the tips of her fingers, but paused as she took in the scene. Sumia hadn't stuttered or tripped once. In fact, she'd been downright graceful when she'd been running to the pegasus's aid. And there was a glow of confidence in her face that rarely had the opportunity to shine.

"I don't know, Sumia." Chrom frowned at the pegasus. "Circumstances being what they are, I don't really feel comfortable leaving you here to fend for yourself. A few hours' delay isn't going to set us back by too much."

For the first time since she'd slipped under the feathered wing, Sumia looked away from the pegasus. Perhaps it was the pegasus at her side, or perhaps it was something else, but she stood tall and firm with a clear light in her eyes.

"Our mission is vital and every moment precious. Please, Captain, I can handle this. And I won't be alone."

Robin subtly elbowed Chrom again and nodded her head back toward camp. Sometimes, as hard as it was, a person had to step back and let the baby bird try to fly on her own. Besides, Robin wasn't their tactician for nothing. She was fairly confident she could arrange things to satisfy Sumia's burgeoning independence and Chrom's need to keep everyone from being eaten by wolves.

Or Risen.

"All right, Sumia, if you're certain." While he narrowed his eyes, Chrom's tone remained neutral. "I'll have the rendezvous point marked up for you before we leave."

"Thanks, Captain."

Sumia went back to mooning happily over the pegasus while Robin waved. Chrom frowned a moment longer before he turned and led the way back to camp.

"Are you certain she'll be all right?" he asked once they were out of earshot.

Robin huffed with indignation. _Of course I'm sure_.

"I trust you, Robin. I just don't like leaving things to chance or fate."

_Neither do I_.

If there was one thing she'd learned from her studies, it was to minimize both as much as possible. There was no telling when fate or chance would show up, and there were no guarantees they wouldn't be in a foul mood when they did.

Chrom gave her a lopsided grin that conjured the image of little boys and cookie jars. "Some of that pegasus must have rubbed off on her. Sumia's never really taken charge before. It suits her."

Robin shuddered as her first memories of that particular pegasus resurfaced. Naga help them all if that was the case.

"If you aren't busy after we break camp, I'd like to go over some of the diplomatic items with you."

_All right_. Robin stuffed her hands in her pockets, finding comfort in the half carved bird and all the words the Shepherds had given her. She eyed Chrom from the side. Well, almost all of the Shepherds.

Now it was Chrom's turn to nudge her with his elbow. "We're not marching off to your execution, you know."

She made a face at him to hide her confusion. She'd found a comfortable spot in their column that allowed her to hide behind one of the wagons if she wanted quiet, or not, if she wanted to mingle with the others during one of her rare breaks. Walking near the front of the column shouldn't be such a difficult thing. Chrom was easy to talk to and Frederick would be too busy pebble watching to be too disapproving.

So why did it feel like she was emptying her pockets of all her books once more?

"Come now," Chrom's tone had gone light and teasing, "practicing diplomacy is the easy part. Just think of all the character you'll be building in preparation for the real thing."

_That's like telling me to eat my carrots because they'll be good for me. Eventually. At some point_.

Robin froze when she realized she'd been using a combination of words the others had given her and her old method of spelling the words out. A blush warmed her cheeks as she sketched out the beginnings of an apology, but to her surprise, Chrom chuckled.

"That's the difference between us. I always ate my carrots." He rolled his shoulders back and struck a noble pose. "That's why I grew so tall and strong."

Robin's brain stuttered to a stop. He'd understood her? Did that mean the others hadn't only come up with words, but that they'd learned them as well?

That was . . .

Then the rest of what he'd said caught up with her.

_You . . . I . . ._ She glowered at him and smoothed the front of her coat with a fastidious air worthy of court. _I'll have you know I'm exactly the perfect height_.

"Hey," Lissa greeted them, a large pink bag that was three quarters frills slung across her back. "Is Sumia still okay?"

Chrom's eyes were suspiciously bright and the corners of his mouth kept curving upward. "She was when we left her a few minutes ago. Here, Liss, let me help you with that."

Lissa waved him off. "As the healer on duty, I should be there to help if Sumia needs anything."

"Well at least let me carry it for you." Chrom reached for the straps, but she danced out of reach. "That thing's nearly as big as you are."

"I've got it. I promise."

The instinct Robin was developing when it come to frogs and Lissa was rumbling uneasily in her gut. The Lissa she knew and loved would have talked someone like Vaike or Stahl into carrying the bag for her.

Lissa waved back at them right before the path curved away. "Fun fact, Robin: Chrom always ate his carrots—but only because Frederick made him."

"Lissa!"

She giggled and followed the curve of the path out of their line of sight.

Ha! Perhaps Robin had misjudged Lissa. When she wasn't armed with frogs, she made a fairly good ally.

Robin smirked up at Chrom. _Always ate your carrots, huh?_

"Always," he said with mock solemnity. As they reached the top of the small rise, the rising sun shone almost directly behind him, turning his hair into a halo of blue.

The shade was such a pure color that Robin could almost feel the arctic wind cutting across her cheeks and freezing the tips of her nose and fingers. And somewhere in the back of her mind, the song the ice dragons sang was gathering to a crescendo.

Then Chrom shifted and Robin was back in the forest on the far edge of camp. She blinked at him as he reached toward her, trying to reorient herself to the here and now despite the way time seemed to have frozen still.

For that one frozen moment, she forgot how to move without wings, how to breathe without fire.

Then it passed and she was Robin, mortal of indeterminate birth and tactician to the Shepherds, once more.

He plucked a leaf from her hair and twisted it between his fingers, his eyes following every movement as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

Robin tapped his arm. _You should see Lissa or Stahl for that_. She gestured to his face. _Though how you managed to get a sunburn when it's this cold, I have no idea. I don't know why I didn't notice it before._

Chrom's eyes widened and he looked uncharacteristically flustered. "I'm fine. What I need to do is mark our rendezvous point and get it to Sumia first. I was thinking the northernmost point of the forest just outside of the wall, not too far from the gate."

Robin nodded. That would have been her first choice as well. _I'll arrange for Sumia's escort._

"Her escort?" Chrom furrowed his brow. "But I thought you said—"

Robin waved a dismissive hand. _He'll be discreet. A backup plan should misfortune fall upon them. Otherwise, I doubt she'll notice he's there_.

He stared at her, wordless, before grinning and shaking his head. "Somehow I think you're going to do just fine with the Feroxi. Once you've finished, come find me. We'll set off then."

Robin nodded absently, her mind a busy whir of likely places Kellam might be hiding in plain sight. She squinted as she entered what was left of their campsite.

Now she just had to find him.

* * *

The storm hit when they were a few leagues away from the border.

The snow would have been bad enough, but the wind blew at such an angle that it didn't matter how deep the hood, how turned up the collar, it was impossible to keep the elements out.

It was supposed to be spring, darn it! Sunshine. Maybe some rain. Flowers. Not this . . . this unholy abomination of ice and wind and frozen rain. If someone had told her that the final leg of the march would involve slowly freezing to death, Robin would have laughed.

But now? Her face had lost all feeling a day or so ago, and she regretted giving Chrom his gloves back.

Being the dutiful captain that he was, he'd insisted that he was fine and she should keep them—at least until they reached more hospitable quarters.

And she, being the dutiful underling she was aspiring to be, had outright lied to her superior. Of course at the time, while she'd been a little cold, she figured her extra cloak was warm enough to see her through until they reached civilization. A little discomfort never hurt anyone, and it had the added benefit of building character.

Ugh. She was turning into Frederick. Speaking of . . .

"Milord, I am not certain we'll reach the rendezvous by the appointed time." He cast a worried look toward a sky that was all frothing gray bitterness and spite.

Beside her, Chrom gritted his teeth against the storm. "We aren't that far from the gates. If we press on a little longer than we originally planned—"

Robin attempted to tug on Chrom's cloak to get his attention, but with her fingers frozen and curled tight into fists, it came out more as something between a punch and a jab.

She wanted to reassure him, and to point out that it wasn't them Frederick was fretting over. She didn't know much about pegasi, but figured it would be rough going in weather like this. Kellam was sturdy enough that he'd keep them from being swept away by the wind, although he was a distinct disadvantage when it came to flying.

Something she'd only briefly considered when making arrangements earlier. Of course, she'd had no idea that winter was going to come at them all at once the very next day.

Her fingers refused to budge, so she gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. Sumia had better sense than to venture into the storm, and Kellam was there to keep her safe.

All would be well.

Eventually.

In the event the spring thaw ever happened.

"Your lips are blue," Chrom observed. He tugged the hood of her cloak so it protected her face a little better. "It's a good thing we didn't have to make this journey in the winter."

Robin shuddered. If this was spring, there was no way she would have survived winter. Even the place where the ice dragons had built their spires had been more hospitable than this.

"It's f-f-freebing." Lissa trudged along on the other side of Robin. "D-d-do something F-Frebberick."

"Stand beside Quicksilver, milady," Frederick said, patting his horse's neck. "She'll shelter you from the wind."

Robin shook her head. Considering the wind was hurling snow at them anywhere the horse wasn't, Lissa would be lucky if Quicksilver blocked anything more than the top part of her head. She pressed one of the stones Miriel had given her into Lissa's hands.

Lissa squeaked in surprise before clutching the stone against herself. "No way! You had this the whole time?"

Robin gave her a sheepish look. To be honest, she'd mostly forgotten about the stones, although they hadn't lost much heat from when Miriel had first given them to her.

Her fingers were worse than useless in their current frost bitten state, so she settled for mouthing her apology.

"Brrr. I don't think I even remember what it's like to be warm."

Robin would have rolled her eyes at Lissa's dramatics, except she was having the same difficulty.

"When we get to Ferox, the first thing I'm going to do is find a fire. A really big fire." Lissa had a dreamy look on her face that was slightly unsettling.

"Milord." Frederick reined Quicksilver to a sudden halt.

They all turned to look at what he was pointing at—which turned out to be a solid iron gate set into a stone wall.

Robin frowned. She didn't remember any other walls they'd have to pass through to get to the Great Feroxian Wall that guarded the entire southern border of Regna Ferox.

"It's . . . closed." Chrom stared at it as though it was three-sided riddle.

Which was odd, considering that one of the functions of a gate was that it could be closed.

"While relations with Ferox have been . . . difficult at times, the gate has always been manned with at least one guard and kept open until nightfall," Frederick explained.

Ah.

So that was dilemma number two. Their first, and more pressing problem, was that they'd overshot the rendezvous point. The storm had been sudden and unrelenting—even now—so they must have not only misjudged the distance, but also their pace.

While anxiety ate away at her stomach, Robin forced herself to focus on the here and now. Sumia and Kellam would be all right. It was probably warmer among the trees than out here in the open anyway.

Right. So what had she learned in the here and now?

The biggest lesson was that she hated winter campaigns. She didn't have to actually serve during one to see how horrible and messy snow, wind, and ice could be.

Robin narrowed her eyes as she studied the wall. Since no one was manning it, she didn't think anyone would object to her touching it. Mentions of the wall had been few and scattered roughly through hundreds of years of history. And even with as much as she'd read, she hadn't yet hit the time when it had been completed.

"Longfort," Chrom said as she tentatively brushed her fingers against the wet stone. "It's incredible, isn't it?"

"I'll tell you what would be incredible," Lissa said, giving her brother a pointed look. "A big, warm fire and a nice warm bed."

"Yes, well, the Khans haven't often been fond of foreigners." Frederick shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. Then, when he noticed them watching him, he gave them a bracing smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Even so, we mustn't mistake the lack of hospitality for open hostility."

Was it still a silver lining if it was frozen solid?

Chrom frowned at the gate, and the portcullis that was just beyond it. "I suppose we could try hailing someone. Just in case."

"Ah." Frederick gave him an approving smile that eased some of the tightness around his eyes. "Well-applied diplomacy marks a promising start."

Chrom made a face. "Diplomacy is not my strong point, but I'll give it my best." He cleared his throat before turning to address the rest of their company. "Remember everyone, your actions here will reflect back on Ylisse."

"Perhaps I may be of assistance." Miriel pushed her spectacles up against the bridge of her nose and readjusted her cape.

"I would be grateful for any aid you might offer," Chrom said.

Nodding as though she expected no less, Miriel snapped open her wind tome. As magic gathered around her, humming through the air, she gestured to Chrom.

Robin watched with fascination as the green wind magic streaked all around them, gathering even more power until it crackled like lightning. Then it turned its attention toward Chrom.

Wait. What?

Robin blinked, her heart racing.

Surely she was mistaken. Magic wasn't a sentient creature. It could no more notice Chrom than it could sing an aria.

Right?

Uneasy, she dipped her hand into her pocket, reaching for her Thunder tome. Miriel wasn't an enemy, but magic had a way of twisting out of the grasp of even the most skilled mages from time to time.

The air swirled in such a way that it was nearly visible. It roared through the place where they stood, blasting through the snow and clearing it away.

Then Miriel called the magic by name and the raw power drew into itself until it had compacted itself so tight that it became a green glow a few inches away from Chrom's face.

Chrom looked at it the way a man might stare at his doom.

"Er, Miriel—" His voice boomed loud enough that all the Shepherds clapped their hands over their ears.

"There is no need to shout." Miriel gestured to the green glow. "As you can see, this spell will amplify your voice sufficiently on its own."

Robin rubbed her ears and glared at the mage. She could ooh and ahh over the incredible craftsmanship that had gone into the spell later.

When her ears stopped ringing.

"Right." This time Chrom managed to pitch his voice so that he didn't risk rupturing their eardrums. He turned back toward the gate, one hand resting on Falchion. "To you who guard this gate, we have come on behalf of the Exalt of Ylisse that we may parley with the Khans of Regna Ferox."

They waited, hardly daring to breathe. Had they come all this way for nothing? Surely the messenger the Exalt sent ahead of them must have alerted the Feroxians as to their intentions.

When it became apparent that no answer was forthcoming, Chrom turned back toward the Shepherds. He gestured to the spell. Miriel said another word Robin didn't quite catch, and the magic disintegrated back into the air.

"Thank you," he said.

Miriel adjusted her spectacles, a thin smile on her lips. "The spell is still in its infancy, but it has come along nicely."

Chrom glanced at Frederick before his gaze fell on her. "I don't suppose you have a backup plan."

Before Robin could reply, Frederick shifted forward in the saddle—back rigid, and one hand shading his eyes.

"There's trouble in the wind, Milord. The gate has not been left undefended, and if I understand things aright, the Feroxi Guard are mobilizing."

Chrom turned back sharply, his gaze drawn up along the top of Longfort. "What? Why?"

"Who can say?" Frederick glanced over at Miriel. "But they look ready to fly at a moment's notice. We'd best prepare to receive them."

Robin was nodding in agreement, when Chrom turned to her. "It's a good thing we brought our tactician with us. What say you, Robin?"

She stared at him in disbelief. Did he really think she could put together an effective strategy that ensured the greatest chances of everyone staying alive just like that? Confidence in her abilities was one thing, but blind faith could end up getting someone killed.

"You do have some idea of how to approach the situation, don't you?" Frederick gave her a hard look. It wasn't a question.

Feeling more than a little put upon, Robin pulled a thick packet of papers tied together with string out of one of her inner pockets.

Of course she had a plan. And what she had, while not identical to the situation at hand, was a lot more than 'some idea.'

She thumbed her way through the stack until she came to a smaller packet she'd put together one night back when she'd had a library to call her own. Slipping it out of the larger packet, she put her other plans back in her pocket.

Chrom grinned at her as she opened the packet and shook out the pages. She hadn't been certain what kind of opposition they'd meet when she'd started doodling her plan one sleepless night, but from a quick survey of the Feroxi that were visible, she hadn't been far off.

The place she'd severely underestimated was how much armor they'd be wearing and how heavy it looked. They might as well have had a miniature army of Kellams.

She traced her finger along a map of the wall she'd sketched. The main entryway had a series of three portcullises. Frederick hadn't understated their wariness to foreigners.

"You want us to gain entry through the main gate?" Frederick kept his tone fairly neutral, but Robin could almost see him picturing her sitting in a corner with a dunce cap on her head.

Shaking her head, she pointed to two points on either side of the gate. The main gate wasn't the only point of entry, and while they would be at a severe disadvantage taking on the towers that stood guard around the gate, they'd at least have a chance.

"These are rather . . . comprehensive." Frederick, who had been studying her work, looked a little at a loss for once.

Robin glared at him. He had his hobbies, and she had hers.

And hers turned out to be a lot more valuable than his pebble collection had.

"So we attack from two fronts?" Chrom narrowed his eyes as he studied the map. "We'd be spreading ourselves thin."

Robin shook her head. The plans she'd drawn up could safely be thrown out the window for the most part. The Shepherds had nowhere near enough armor to counter the Feroxi. But if they—

"Halt!" a no-nonsense voice boomed over the side of the Feroxian wall. "Who goes there?"

They all turned to see a woman standing in clear view on the top of the wall. She towered over them, sunlight glittering with a silvery sheen off her armor. Unlike Robin, she would have had to duck to make use of the battlements.

"In the name of House Ylisse, I seek an audience with the khans," Chrom called back. Despite the deeper timbre of his voice, his reply was dampened somewhat by the wind that had steadily been picking up.

Robin spared a glance over her shoulder as she stuffed her papers back into her pocket. She'd have to trust that Sumia and Kellam were safe for now.

The woman laughed, deep and bitter. "It seems everyone is of the House Ylisse of late. Nay, lad. Not one step closer. I've lancers at the ready."

As if for emphasis, a line of lancers, interspersed with archers, stepped forward.

Quicksilver danced forward a few steps.

"Hold, milady. We are not your enemy. Exalt Emmeryn herself sent us to discuss matters of mutual interest. The mess—"

The woman thumped the shaft of her lance against the stone. "The only interest I hold for you is to keep you out of Regna Ferox, brigand!"

Frederick paled, and Robin had to stifle a laugh behind her hand. Calling Frederick a brigand was about the worst thing the commander could have done. The only thing he took more seriously than serving the royal family of Ylisse was his honor.

Indeed, there was iron in his voice, "Brigand? Now see here—"

"You think you're the only 'Ylisseans' to come try their luck at crossing our border? After the last batch, I have the authority to fell any such imposters where they stand." She raised her lance to make her point.

"How dare you! You stand in the presence of Prince Chrom, the Exalt's own blood!"

Chrom put out a hand as he glanced between Frederick and the Feroxian commander. "Frederick, I think that—"

"Ha! And I'm the Queen of Valm. You do realize impersonating royalty is a capital offense, yes?"

"We are not knaves who would stoop to do such things!"

Robin sighed. Now all that was left to do was make the fight official.

"You have our deepest apologies for starting off on the wrong foot," Chrom said with a warning look at Frederick. "You need only send word to the khans of our arrival. The messenger we sent on ahead should be able to verify our identities."

"I will give you this, you are the most convincing of your wretched lot."

"We aren't brigands," Chrom tried again. "I, Prince Chrom, have been appointed envoy by Exalt Emmeryn to—"

The commander rested one arm on against the parapet. "Since you are so determined to cross over to Feroxian soil, then perhaps we should settle this the Feroxian way." She drew herself up, and although no one moved, it seemed as though the forest of lances had thickened. "Defend your claim of royal blood and prove the veracity of your station on the battlefield!"

Chrom shook his head. "Emm isn't going to be happy about this." Then, louder, "Please, good lady. If you would just send word to the khans—"

"You've tried my patience long enough." She stepped back and thumped her staff against the stones once more. "Attack!"

Time seemed to freeze as everything, impossibly, happened all at once.

The lancers on the parapet raised their arms while Chrom shouted, "Get her out of here!"

Robin only had a moment before the meaning of his words became clear. By the time they'd registered, Frederick had yanked her up into the saddle and Quicksilver was galloping back to the rest of the Shepherds.

The sunlight glanced of the tips of the lances as they arched toward Chrom.

A scream no one would ever hear, tore itself from her throat as Chrom ducked and put his arm up in a vain attempt to halt the deadly rain.

Robin pounded just as fruitlessly against Frederick's armor, demanding he turn back. She watched with horror as the first person who had ever believed in her . . . exploded in a cloud of . . . feathers?

"Robin, stop. You're going to," Frederick sighed, "fall."

Ignoring the sting of her landing, Robin surged to her feet, her eyes on the sky. It didn't help matters any that the sky, the snow, and the pegasus were all the same color. She squinted against the weak glare of a sun that had better things to do than get frostbite, forgetting to breathe until—there!

For reasons she could only guess at, the pegasus had flown directly toward the section of the parapet where all the archers were fairly bristling with arrows. Then, just as it got in range, the creature immediately swerved back toward them.

"Chrom!" Lissa shouted.

A moment more, and the pegasus swept up to their company. Sumia beamed, patting the pegasus's neck, while Chrom, slightly dazed, dismounted. All around them, the Shepherds raised their voices in relief.

Robin ignored them all.

She stalked over to where Chrom stood like a gift from the gods themselves, and as he turned toward her with a smile, she punched him in the shoulder with as much force as she could rally.

"R-Robin?" He stared at her, wide-eyed and bewildered.

It was times like these that Robin regretted her inability to reach his face without standing on her tiptoes.

_What were you thinking?_ she shouted, too furious to care that there was no way he could hear her, let alone understand what she was yelling. _You could have been killed!_

Chrom put up his hands to catch hers. She stared at their hands, unable to remember when she'd swung a second time. Despite the fury blazing in her chest, she'd never before felt as cold as she did now.

"Robin, I can tell you're upset," Chrom murmured. "We can discuss that later—and we will. I promise. But for now," he nodded toward the wall, "we have our duty to fulfill."

He held her gaze a moment longer as if to underscore his promise. She dropped her eyes and nodded sharply. Fortunately she'd had the foresight to bring more vellum than strictly necessary.

She was going to need it.

"Milord."

The Shepherds had gathered in a semi circle around them and were watching the two of them with far too much interest.

Robin's cheeks burned. How had she forgotten about them? They were hardly inconspicuous—especially with the addition of Sumia's pegasus.

"Right." Chrom straightened, every inch a captain and prince of Ylisse. "I believe Robin has drafted up a preliminary plan."

With a sigh, she pulled the crumpled papers out of her pocket. The Feroxi hadn't launched an attack after them, so likely they would only fight them to defend the gate.

Which gave them time enough to plan. And, she hoped, time enough for a miracle to find them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've finally reached Regna Ferox! *confetti*
> 
> Robin still has a few hundred more years of history to wade through before she catches up to relatively current events. Before Longfort was Longfort, it was the Great Feroxian Wall.
> 
> And thanks to Robin, I'm going to have to find some way for Frederick's pebble collection to be useful . . .
> 
> As always, thank you for stopping by, reading, commenting, etc. You guys are the best!


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

They weren't going to win this one with brute strength. Not only were they outnumbered by the Feroxi ten to one, the Feroxi were much better equipped.

Strangely, rather than inducing knots in her gut, something suspiciously like anticipation jolted through her.

Robin didn't just intend to “persuade” the Feroxi they were telling the truth, she intended to let them understand in no uncertain terms what truth and honor looked like on a Shepherd.

To do that, they needed to win this skirmish.

She raised her eyes to the parapet once more, squinting against the glare of sunlight on armor as she attempted to count how many were currently lined up. But the angle of the blasted sun was making it difficult to see, let alone gain an accurate count . . .

Huh.

Their armor was in good repair and looked as though they kept it freshly polished.

She signaled to Miriel. _How hard is it to make the glowstones?_

Miriel tapped her chin in time to her mental calculations. “A few minutes at most.”

_How many can you do at a time?_

“The spell does not differentiate.”

She waited patiently for Miriel to finish her explanation.

“The number of objects makes no difference, and will not affect the outcome.”

_Wait here._

Pleased, Robin hurried over to Frederick who looked to be in the middle of an animated conversation with Chrom. She rapped lightly on his arm.

_I'm going to need your pebble collection_.

Frederick stared at her blankly. “My what?”

She gestured to the ground. _You know, all the pebbles you pick up along the march. I need all of them now. Over by Miriel_.

“Robin, I hardly think this is the time—”

But she was already on her way over to Sumia.

_You're safe_. She gave her friend a hug and then got to the point. _Are you both in good flying condition?_

Sumia smiled and patted the pegasus's neck. “Snowdrop and I are ready for whatever you need.”

Robin pointed to the forest of lances along the western side of the wall. _I'm going to need you to keep them busy. You don't have to hurt anyone, and I prefer that you don't if you don't have to. Just keep their attention focused on you._

“I can do that,” Sumia said, her jaw set. “But what about the archers over there? Snowdrop’s fast, but even she can't outrun an arrow.”

Robin rocked on her heels as her plan solidified in her mind’s eye. They had to keep the number of casualties down on their enemies’ side if they wanted the khans to be amenable to anything they had to say, and Robin refused to entertain the idea of casualties among the Shepherds.

She eyed all the shining, gleaming armor with new eyes. _They're going to be otherwise engaged._

Sumia nodded. “Right. I just need a few minutes to brush her down.”

She was still as far away from being a battle hardened pegasus knight as Robin was from being a proper courtier, but that worked out perfectly—especially if it led to the Feroxi underestimating her.

Robin was smiling as she rounded up Vaike, Sully, and Virion by default, thanks to his proximity to Sully. The next part of her plan called for what might be diplomatically termed daring heroics, and Vaike and Sully were crazy enough to pull it off.

She drew a simple diagram in the snow with a handy stick, indicating specific points.

“You want us to charge the eastern tower?” Sully frowned. “But what about the archers?”

“Ah,” Virion said, hand to his chest, “but you have me—the archest of archers. Those fools upon the wall are but a trifling matter.”

Sully snorted. “Sure they’re trifling, until you get hit with an arrow in the a—”

“Arrows are no match for the Teach,” Vaike declared. As was his custom, even when he was stationed in one spot, he was in perpetual motion, balancing on the balls of his feet, Righteous Fury in hand.

Good. He was armed.

For the moment.

Robin waved her hand to get their attention. Virion and Miriel will deal with the archers. _You two just need to focus on causing as much chaos as possible. In that direction._

“Chaos, huh?” Sully had a speculative gleam in her eye that had a distinct whiff of frog.

Vaike’s grin widened. “Ain't nobody who can do chaos like Teach.” He put out an arm as if envisioning his future masterpiece. “Everyone else can just sit back and relax. Teach is here and class is in session.”

Sully snorted. “Please. By the time you get to the field, there won't be anything left for you to do. But if you ask nice, I might be willing to save a few for you.”

“Yeah right! I'm the number one chaos causer around. Right, Robin?”

She grimaced. That was not a title to be proud of.

“Care to wager?” Sully asked with a kind of innocence that led to many a rash decision. “See who can take down the most?”

Vaike had the presence of mind to think it over for all of three seconds. “Stakes?”

“The loser mucks out the stable. For a month.”

He started to nod, then stopped. “Hey! I don't even have a horse!”

“And the winner shall bestow a kiss,” Virion said, warming to the idea.

Robin shook her head and waved her hands for their attention.

_Try not to kill or maim anyone unnecessarily._

Vaike blinked at her liked she'd just suggested they all don flowers and entreat the Feroxi through song. Even Virion was looking at her askance.

Sully crossed her arms. “You do realize we're going to be attacking the fort, right?”

_No,_ Robin corrected her. _I'm going to attack the fort, you are going to serve as a distraction._

They all looked at her for a long moment before bursting into laughter.

“Good one, Robin.” Sully slapped her on the back hard enough to make her stumble forward a few steps. “You almost had me going there.”

“No offense,” Vaike said, “but the only one who’s scared of you is the notching post.”

Robin narrowed her eyes.

Virion, perhaps scenting danger, stepped forward. “You are but a tender sapling, newly sprung on the field of battle. There is no shame in allowing more experienced Shepherds to take the lead.”

She clenched her fists around the edges of her coat.

Virion opened his mouth to spout more poetry, but Sully elbowed him with all the subtlety of a herd of furious Snowdrops.

_Will you follow your orders?_ Robin asked, her movements sharp with temper.

The three looked at each other for a moment. Sully pursed her lips and looked Robin up and down. “If you can get Chrom to approve the orders, we’ll follow them.”

Nodding once, Robin turned on her heel and stalked over to where the rest of the Shepherds had gathered around a respectably sized mountain of glowing rocks. Most of them had abandoned their cloaks, and it wasn't hard to guess why. Frederick's rock collection was radiating enough heat that she could almost be convinced spring had finally arrived.

Robin gave Miriel and Frederick a tight smile before catching Chrom’s attention.

His expression softened, and he gestured to the stones. “I see you've got a plan. Care to share it with the rest of us?”

She pulled the stick she'd used earlier out of her belt and moved away from the rock heap. With a few deft movements, she sketched a workable map in a clean patch of snow.

Then she pointed to Frederick and Stahl, marking a path on the snow map that led up to the western tower.

_They'll serve as your escort._

Chrom blinked. “My escort?”

Robin nodded. She'd read all about diplomatic envoys during their march, and while their current situation was different from those she'd read, she didn't want to stray too far from tradition.

Of course, nearly every diplomatic envoy was a lord of sorts, and one who didn't typically fight with weapons, preferring instead to press the advantage through words. And politics.

Which meant she was going to have to wing it more often than not.

_We want to get you to their commander as quickly as possible while . . ._ How to put this diplomatically? _. . . causing the least amount of damage possible._

“I need an escort for that?” He raised a brow at her.

Robin decided against mentioning all the equipment he obliterated during the normal course of training. Of course Chrom was more than capable of making his own way to the commander, but that was part of the problem.

_This is more about maneuvering than fighting._ She retraced the path she expected this team to take. _Speed, not power. We want to avoid casualties._

“What about this side?” Frederick frowned at her map. “The way to the upper doors is too narrow. We'd be caught like fish in a barrel.”

_Sully, Vaike, and Virion have that side covered. You’ll be with them,_ she told Miriel who had wandered over at some point.

“Fire will no longer be an option.” Miriel held up a tattered cover, all that remained of her tome. “I had not anticipated needing more than one.”

Robin thought back to all that lovely metal the Feroxi had encased themselves in. _Thunder will do._

“What about me?” Lissa demanded. She crossed her arms and gave Robin a pointed look that told her very clearly she wasn't going to sit this one out.

_You'll be with Sumia. You can help with the distracting, and she can fly you to those in need of your aid._

“Really?” Lissa bounced in place with glee. “I've always wanted to ride a pegasus!”

Robin smiled, her earlier tension worn away beneath the satisfaction of a plan coming together and Lissa’s unrelenting cheer.

_Really. She should be just about finished brushing her pegasus._

With an excited squeal, Lissa took off in the direction Robin had indicated.

“That accounts for everyone but you.” Chrom gave her a look that was a little too knowing. “What will you be doing while we're storming the fort?”

Robin’s smile widened. She pointed to the stones that, when combined, gave off an impressive amount of light. All that metal and the pristine patches of the snow would only serve to amplify the effect.

“I hadn't realized you were that cold.” Chrom smirked. Then, the challenge of his unspoken question in every line and angle of him, “It isn't like you to remain behind.”

Robin shook her head. _Trust your tactician._ She turned to Miriel. _We have some extra wind tomes, don't we?_

“Robin.”

Miriel tucked the remains of her fire tome into her sleeves. “How many do you require?”

_How many have we got?_

“Four and a half.”

_Excellent._

Stahl, who had been crouched down and quietly studying her map, looked up. “Will we be mounted?”

Robin shook her head. _The way up is too steep. We'll secure the horses down here._

“I can do that,” Stahl said, rising.

“I'll gather the tomes,” Miriel said.

“Our engagement will not be on equal footing.” Frederick’s customary frown was lodged in place. “The Feroxi will view us as invaders and treat us as such.”

_Your lives come first_. The knowledge that some might die in what was an unnecessary battle sat like lead in Robin’s gut. The commander had been stupidly foolish in her refusal to send for the messenger. A point she was determined to drive home once the fight was over and they stood before the khans.

Frederick gave her an inscrutable look before excusing himself to ready his lance.

Robin sighed and rubbed her arms. The glowstones were an unknown variable, but at the very least, they would add to the chaos she was about to inflict on the Feroxi.

“Robin.” Chrom was still giving her that stubborn look that left no room for argument. While normally easy going, there were also times when Chrom would fall before he would yield.

_I won't be in any danger. I promise_. Indeed, she should well be out of range of the lances and even the arrows.

“You never answered my question.”

Huffing a sigh, she jammed her hands into her pockets, wincing as the unfinished carving bit into her fingertip. If her plan worked, it would look far more spectacular than it sounded.

“Robin?”

She sighed, wishing she had time to think of a more clever description. Still, what she had was serviceable.

_I'm going to distract them with rocks._

“Rocks.”

She nodded. Perhaps a small demonstration was in order.

Robin plucked a much battered wind tome from a pocket and the glowstone Miriel had given her from another. Setting the stone on the ground, she backed up a few steps.

Chrom’s eyes widened as he looked from the tome to the stone, and back again. “Robin, you're not going to—”

With a few deft movements, she conjured the wind, and then threw her arm out toward the stone. The wind, emboldened by the purpose she'd given it, blasted toward its destination.

CRACK!

They stared at the splintered trunk of the tree with varying degrees of astonishment. Or, more accurately, the middle of the trunk where a stone-sized hole had suddenly appeared.

_I won't throw them quite so hard, of course._ Robin’s fingers trembled just a little before she curled them into a fist. A fine example she'd set if she didn't control the wind better—especially when she'd emphasized that they weren't to kill or maim if they could help it.

Blasting a rock through someone’s center definitely qualified as both.

Chrom shook his head as if to clear it. “Just try not to level the fort. I doubt the khans would be able to overlook that—misunderstanding or no.”

Robin narrowed her eyes, her cheeks every bit as warm as Frederick’s rock collection. It was a good thing Chrom was smiling, because otherwise she'd have to take what he'd said seriously, and from the way her nerves had all turned to Thunder and water, that probably wasn't a good idea.

A gentle pressure to her shoulder drew her back outside herself.

“Hey,” Chrom murmured. “You okay?”

Robin took a deep breath and shoved the storm roiling in her gut to the side.She had a mission to see through. She could fall apart later, after this was all over.

Her gaze flickered up to Chrom’s. The kindness she found there pulled the words out of her before she’s even realized they were there.

_I just put a hole in a tree._

He chuckled softly. “Yes, but you're improving. This tree’s still standing.”

In a quiet corner of her mind, the storm transformed into a pretty display of light on water.

No.

She wasn't alone anymore.

_They had a mission._

_You'll need to reach and disarm the commander as quickly as possible._

Chrom nodded, the lines of his face hardening with resolve.

_And please,_ she bit her lip and dropped her gaze, _don't get hurt._

“Only if you promise not to go charging into the fort alone,” he said.

_Chrom, I'm not going anywhere near the gates._

“You say that now,” he laughed, dodging when she took a swipe at him. “How about we join the others? The sooner we get through, the sooner we can work to ensure safety for Ylisse.”

The Shepherds had all gathered by the mountain of glowstones, suspiciously quiet and well behaved. Robin tightened her collar by reflex, jumping a little when Miriel dumped the wind tomes into her arms.

“So, Captain,” Sully’s voice was loud in the unnatural silence, “what's the plan?”

Chrom turned to her with nothing but trust in his eyes. “Robin?”

Robin went over her plan again, directing each group with excruciating detail. She couldn't call out to correct any deviations, nor could she change the plan substantially once it was set in motion.

When she was done, Vaike stepped forward.

“Just for clarification, you're going to allow Robin to attack the fort on her own?”

Chrom raised a brow. “If you mean allowing her to pelt the guard with rocks from a safe distance, yes.”

“Ha!” Vaike punched Sully in the arm. “You should know by now never to wager against the Vaike!”

“Throwing rocks isn't exactly launching a full out attack,” Sully grumbled.

“Uh, Captain?” Stahl pointed toward the towers. “It looks like they're sending out a small contingent on either side.”

“Right.” Chrom glanced at Robin. “Ready?”

She tucked all but one wind tome away into her pockets, giving herself just enough time to ferret out any detail she'd overlooked.

_Yes._

“All right then.” He turned to the others and drew Falchion from his scabbard. “Everyone clear on their orders? Then let's go!”

The Shepherds broke into three separate groups and moved into position while the soldiers the Feroxi had sent made their way down from the upper gates.

Robin watched them long enough to note how well they moved together before she snapped her wind tome open and began tracing the runes in the air. She sent the wind spiraling toward the top of the rock heap, and then swept her arm out and up toward the wall.

The glowstones arched toward the Feroxi like a storm of falling stars. Robin stood captivated for a moment as she witnessed how truly beautiful magic could be when it wasn't trying to burn one’s face off.

She sent another volley after the first, adjusting the length and breadth of her movements just enough to make better use of the sunlight reflecting off the stones.

The sun was at a perfect angle to reflect the brightness of the stones until the sky seemed to be filled with miniature suns. She made the mistake of looking at them a little too long. A painful mistake she didn't intend to make again.

Fortunately the Shepherds were too occupied with the Feroxi to do more than note that the day seemed brighter than it should have been at that hour.

The clash of battle and roar of soldiers melted away into the background as Robin blinked at the dots of inverse light obscuring her vision, her movements becoming more rhythmic.

Summon the wind.

Sweep out her arm.

Will the stones to fly.

Turn the page.

Begin anew.

Robin was so wrapped up in what she was doing that she didn't hear the knight come up from behind her.

She did notice, however, when a heavy gauntlet clamped down on her shoulder.

Uttering a soundless shriek, she stumbled backward into a mountain of metal. The sunlight glinted off of the armor, dazzling her eyes, so that all she saw was a jumble of a face obscured by light.

“Uh, Robin?”

Then she was falling.

Cold stone slammed into her chest, knocking the breath from her lungs. Robin lay there, wheezing, her mind running in frantic circles.

She needed to move.

Now.

Assess the situation.

Get up.

Figure out how to breathe again.

A shadow fell across her, and as she looked up into the face of an astonished lancer, a name bubbled up through the chaos and panic.

Kellam.

He'd finally caught up to them.

* * *

 

Robin’s plan had come together far more quickly than Chrom had anticipated. The soldiers the Feroxi had sent out had been easy to subdue—especially once she'd started flinging the glowing rocks toward the fort.

Sully’s group was keeping the archers and lancers on the eastern side occupied, and Frederick and Stahl had proven surprisingly effective at clearing the entire western side of Feroxi. Now all that remained was to push through the iron gates and they'd be within reach of the Feroxi commander.

So why was the hair on the back of his neck standing on end? He did another visual sweep of the area, but all seemed to be in order.

“Um, Captain?”

Nerves already taut, he whirled around to find only empty air.

“Who’s there?” he demanded. “Show yourself at once.”

A heavy sigh sounded off to his right. “I'm standing right here out in the open, sir.”

Chrom narrowed his eyes, picking up a strange glint of light that—

A great bulk of nothingness seemed to shift, and then, impossibly, Kellam faded into view.

“Kellam!” Chrom lowered Falchion. “When did you join us?”

Kellam’s shoulders slumped. “I've been here since the beginning. Or at least until Robin asked if I would stand guard over Sumia. I'm not as fast as a pegasus, so I've only now just caught up.”

“Ah.” He vaguely remembered her mentioning something of the sort. Noting Kellam’s gloom, Chrom infused a little more cheer into his tone. “It's good to have you here. I'm sure Robin . . .”

Chrom frowned as he turned back to the place where Robin should have been standing. But it was empty, save for a quarter of the stones they'd gathered from the wagon.

“Where did she go?” His brow furrowed. Now that he thought on it, it had been a little while since he remembered seeing any of the stones streaking overhead. And the hum of magic had greatly diminished until it had nearly faded into the background.

“That's what I wanted to tell you, sir.”

Without warning, Thunder splintered into the sky only a short distance away.

Behind the gate.

He glanced back at the small mound of stones, trying to make sense of his suspicions. He turned back to face the gate. There's no way she could have—

“I'm not sure what happened exactly,” Kellam said, apology infusing every word. “I only meant to let her know I'd just caught up with you all. But I think I startled her and then—”

A mounting dread settled in his gut. “Do you know where Robin is, Kellam?”

Kellam shook his head, his face downturned. “She was there one second, and then gone the next.”

They both jumped as another Thunder went off. Closer this time.

“Frederick, we need to get through now!” Chrom shouted as he sprinted up the incline toward the gate.

Stahl knelt on one knee while he smeared something thick and violently yellow along the edges of the two great doors that served as one of the upper gates. They sat flush against the stone, making it fairly impossible to find any purchase to force them open.

As soon as Chrom reached them, his eyes started watering from the pungent wall of whatever the goop Stahl was smearing on the metal smelled like.

And whatever that was, it burned.

“This should make it easier to break through,” Stahl said, straightening and resealing his concoction.”It'll eat right through the metal.”

“What is it?” Chrom asked, breathing as shallowly as possible. How was Stahl managing to be cheerfully unaffected? Even Frederick was sniffling discreetly.

“A poultice for wet lungs.” Stahl chuckled as he stowed it away. “My mother always had some on hand when we were little, so I kind of got into the habit of carrying it with me whenever we go out on missions.”

“A poultice that corrodes metal?” Frederick eyed the goop on the gate and shifted slightly away from it.

“Yeah. It's pretty effective, even for colds. But you have to build up a tolerance for it.”

Frederick shifted away a little more. “It is a wonder you survived.”

“How fast can it go?” Chrom asked. The certainty that, however improbable, Robin was on the other side of the gate urged him to move things along as quickly as possible.

“Should only need a minute or two more.” Stahl wiped his hands on a rag he tucked back into his armor.

“Captain, sir, I can help with the gate.” Kellam appeared behind him, only slightly out of breath.

Frederick narrowed his eyes. “What troubles you, Milord?”

“Robin,” Chrom admitted, his muscles tense and straining against the delay.

“Did she run out of stones already?” Frederick put up a hand to shade his eyes as he squinted in the direction they'd last left her.

If only it had been that simple. Though he'd only known her for a short time, even if it felt like forever, Chrom had a feeling that nothing was simple when it came to Robin.

“I think she's already inside.”

“What? How?”

They ducked instinctively as another Thunder went off close enough to set their ears ringing. The metal doors shuddered in place, flaking off along the side that held the hinges.

“Kellam!”

They all pressed themselves against the sides of the incline so the bulky knight could pass. Kellam sized up the doors for a moment before he braced himself and began pushing.

“Be ready to force through any soldiers waiting on the other side.” Chrom gripped Falchion tight enough to leave an impression of the hilt on his palm.

Frederick raised his lance, and Stahl saluted with his sword. “Aye.”

The metal shrieked and groaned as Kellam bore down upon it. Cracks appeared, marring the surface, looking a lot like the Thunder Robin had been releasing.

Every moment that passed only increased the urgency to get through. Even the most talented swordsman would be overwhelmed when facing that many of the enemy. Especially if that swordsman was fighting to subdue rather than injure.

He set his jaw as another Thunder sliced through the air. Of course Robin may have abandoned her diplomatic principles now that she was surrounded and alone.

With a final wrenching sound, the great doors gave way. Chrom waited only long enough for Kellam to stand aside before he pushed his way through, Frederick and Stahl on his heels.

The knight guarding the way was turned away from them, his attention fixed on something they couldn't yet see.

Chrom braced himself as he charged straight into the man. His pauldron absorbed most of the blow as he crashed into the knight, but experience had taught him that he was sure to have a few bruises on the morrow.

The knight, caught unaware, toppled onto his back with a shout. Chrom rolled out of reach as the knight waved his lance, spearing the place he had been only moments before.

Not that it mattered anymore. Armor that heavy had the distinct disadvantage of making it impossible to right oneself after a fall. A technique they'd used to great effect earlier on the few knights that had ventured forth.

“With me!” Chrom shouted, springing to his feet. He raced off, adrenaline sharpening his focus.

As he rounded the corner, he smashed into the few soldiers that stood in his path, knocking them off balance, and trusting Frederick and Stahl to deal with them properly.

A few steps up, and then he was on the parapet.

The air had a bite to it that had nothing to do with how cold it was. In truth, it was warmer here than it had been on the ground. No doubt thanks to the stones Miriel had spelled. They sprouted like golden mushrooms underfoot, and he realized he hadn't truly appreciated how many there were of them previously.

Chrom paused just long enough to take stock of the immediate situation. He wrenched a lance out of one soldier’s grasp, reversed the blade, and then struck the man sharply in the sternum.

He dropped the lance as the man toppled over, and managed to parry another right before it took off his head. Those nearest shouted for reinforcements as he ducked and wove through the sea of lances.

The few times Chrom managed to get inside the lancers’ guard, he jerked the lance hard enough to knock them off balance before he delivered a sharp blow with the flat of his blade to their exposed fingers. They cursed him as their weapons fell from their grips, but broken fingers were far less dangerous than concussions.

Sweat beaded along his hairline as he continued to strike where he could, and dodge where he couldn't. It was only when he broke a fifth set of fingers that he realized why his heart was beating far harder than his movements warranted.

It had been a long while since Robin had released her last Thunder.

He dislodged another lance, earning a shallow cut along his arm, his gaze sweeping the walkway as he sought out his tactician. A losing proposition, considering Robin’s height.

“We've got this covered, Milord,” Frederick shouted as he used his lance to shove a lancer into his fellows. “Go!”

Chrom raised his hand in acknowledgement before shoving his way through the knot of Feroxi that stood before him.

His movements were quicker now that he was focused on evading rather than striking, and it wasn't long before he came upon the central parapet that stood over the main gate.

His eyes widened as he stumbled through. Chrom hadn't had time to form any expectations, but he hadn't expected to see the Shepherds who'd been assigned the eastern tower to have almost fought their way through the entire contingent guarding that side.

Vaike and Sully were trading insults while Miriel and Virion covered them from behind.

“Captain!” Sumia swept up next to him on her pegasus with Lissa grinning madly behind her.

His eyes darted over to where the archers had been stationed. “Sumia, shouldn't you—”

She shook her head. “The archers have already been neutralized, but Robin could use your help.”

“Where is she?”

Sumia pointed. “Just up ahead where the central tower is located. We've got you covered.”

“Right.” He nodded his thanks before taking off at a dead run.

The number of soldiers thinned the closer he got to the tower, and the few that he came across took only a moment to disarm. He spared a moment to throw their lances over the side of the parapet before hurrying on.

Only as he reached the central tower did his steps slow.

A knot of soldiers had gathered around the area that served as courtyard of sorts. They laughed as they called out jeers and wagers. He frowned. It looked an awful lot like—

A burst of wind smashed against the side nearest to him, knocking a few of the Feroxi aside long enough to get a good view of what they were all looking at.

The Feroxi commander stood, lance up in a guard position, as she stared down at Robin.

“You should at least have the decency to tell me in whose name you come to do battle.”

Even from where he stood, Chrom could feel the heat of Robin’s glare. She had a few minor cuts, but looked fine otherwise, if slightly singed. She had bunched up her fists, and a library of battered tomes lay at her feet.

The commander swept her lance toward Robin’s legs. Robin lurched to the side, narrowly evading being knocked off her feet.

“Speak!”

Chrom rammed through the soldiers before him, stumbling into the space they'd left around Robin and the commander.

“If you want answers, you're going to have to talk to me,” he said, holding Falchion lightly in his hand.

The commander turned to face him quickly despite the iron encasing her form. Her eyes narrowed as she took him in. “And who might you be?”

With a simple flick of her wrist, the blade of her lance was now aimed in his direction.

“As I stated before, I am the prince of Ylisse. If you will only send for the messenger, you will find my claim is true.” Impatience colored his tone. Robin was hidden by the commander’s bulk, so he had to trust that she was still on her feet.

“Messengers can be made up on a whim. Show me the truth of your character.” She swung her lance around so quickly that Chrom wasn't able to jump to the side fast enough.

His parry deflected most of the force behind her thrust, but a thin red line appeared on the side of his arm.

“Light on your feet,” she said with grudging approval.

Chrom eyed her warily. “We didn't come here to fight. And we don't have to fight now.”

“Thirteen,” she said as she lunged forward. “Thirteen families now in mourning thanks to you and your ilk.”

“We are not brigands,” Chrom gritted through his teeth. He parried the lance, then bracing his left hand on the flat of Falchion’s blade, he shoved it away.

The commander’s eyes narrowed. “Then you're with the others.” Any lightness or affability in her features had hardened away. Gripping her lance with both hands along the shaft, she shifted her stance.

Chrom had trained with Frederick long enough to know that he'd better make his move now if he wished to remain standing.

With a shout he charged straight for her, managing to fend off the blade while he ducked past her guard. Her eyes widened and she tried to swing her lance around while backing up enough to make use of her superior reach.

Anticipating her response, he moved with her. Falchion flashed with sunlight as he swung it around and came down hard on on her wrist with the hilt. She cried out, although her gauntlets gave her a fair chance at protecting the bone from breaking.

With another step, Chrom swept his foot around hers while shoving her hard. A gust of wind blasted her from behind, giving him just enough leverage to knock her completely off balance.

Not willing to waste anymore words, he rested Falchion’s point against her throat. “Do you yield?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “I ask only that you spare my men.”

“What do you think we've been doing all morning?” he demanded. If they were very lucky, this day’s battle would only serve as a small delay.

The commander tried to assess the situation for herself, but her armor was shaped so as to protect her neck, which made it impossible to see much of anything when lying prone.

Chrom sheathed Falchion and held out a hand. “Order your men to step down. Then we'll talk.”

It took a moment, but between the two of them, they managed to get her back on her feet. She wore a sour look on her face, but gestured for three of the soldiers standing in the periphery.

“Relay what has transpired here. All are to stand down immediately.”

Chrom waited until they saluted her and hastened toward their comrades before he turned to look for Robin. She was sitting on her nest of battered tomes, a smile plastered to her face.

“Robin?” he said, brow furrowed. “Are you all right?”

Predictably, she nodded, widening her smile. He frowned. It was unlike her to hang back when something needed doing. And now that they'd ended their skirmish victorious, she ought to have been flitting about taking stock of everything.

When it became obvious she wasn't going to move, he nodded toward the Feroxi commander. “Why don't you come over here so we can make proper introductions.”

_I'm fine right here._ She patted one of the tomes, her face falling a little when it disintegrated beneath her touch.

“As an officer, you should be present.” He gave her a pointed look. Then, because it _would_ be in character for her to downplay any injuries she received, he looked her over again, noting a few red splotches he'd missed before.

_I am present._ She gave him a look that he'd learned meant she was about to become intractable. _I'm right here._

He knelt down next to her, resting an arm on his knee. “Where are you hurt?”

Her gaze darted away and she shook her head. _I'm fine. Just a little tired from all the magic I've been slinging._ Her grin wavered just a little and she started blinking as though she'd gotten something in her eye.

“You were telling the truth,” the commander said in wonder as she approached them.

Chrom’s head snapped up. Unaccountably, he'd forgotten they weren't alone. “I'm glad to see that you finally believe us.”

The commander bowed. “I truly mistook you for brigands. You have my humblest apologies, Prince—”

“Chrom will do.” He gestured to Robin. “It appears you've already become acquainted with my tactician, Lady Robin.”

_A lady, am I?_ Robin raised a brow and pursed her lips.

He shook his head, not quite willing to believe she'd forgotten about her title already. At least until her smirk melted rather convincingly into something approaching dumbstruck.

“I am Raimi,” the commander said with another bow. “Acting Commander of Longfort. Once we have organized here, I shall send word and escort you personally to the capital.”

“Thank you.” Chrom inclined his head. “That would be most appreciated.”

With another bow, Raimi strode off to deal with the chaos that had been left in their wake.

_She's really much nicer when she isn't trying to skewer you._ Robin looked after her thoughtfully.

“Indeed.” Chrom straightened and held out his hand. “Why don't we help move things along?”

_Good idea_.

Her grin was back in place, and Chrom wondered if she realized that particular smile gave her a slightly crazed and sinister air.

She patted the ground, wincing as another tome disintegrated. _I'll wait right here so you'll know where to find me._

Chrom regarded her for a long moment. Words were getting them nowhere. Before she could do more than squeak silently in protest, he swooped down and picked her up.

Her fingers were a blur as she tried to reassure him that she was perfectly all right. He shook his head.

“Which leg is it? I'll see if I can find Lissa, though it might take some time.”

He strode along the walkway, nodding as the Feroxi and Shepherds alike stepped aside to allow him to pass through. Word must have spread quickly.

Good.

When Robin noticed he was deliberately not looking at her, she escalated by smacking him in the chest and shoulder.

“If you prefer,” he said, catching sight of his little sister’s pigtails at long last, “I can carry you over my shoulder, although it might not be as comfortable.”

Robin froze, and he could almost hear her working out how likely it would be that he would carry out his threat. He most certainly did not smile when she sighed and settled back in his arms.

“Hey, whatcha got there?” Lissa bounced toward them looking very pleased with herself.

“As near as I can tell, one of her legs is injured.” Then, because nothing lit Lissa’s inner healer like someone resisting treatment, “She won't tell me which.”

“Really?” Lissa gave Robin a sweetly terrifying look, then gestured to a barrel next to the wall. “Put her down over here.”

He moved to comply when Robin’s grip on his shoulder tightened.

“Now, now, Robin,” Lissa said with an authoritative air, “where are you hurt?”

Hunching her shoulders, Robin gestured toward her left ankle.

“I thought you didn't like being carried,” Chrom said as he tried unsuccessfully to put her down once more.

“Robin, you've got to hold still so I can heal you properly.” Lissa waved her staff, the head of which had a number of dents that hadn't been their earlier.

Chrom managed to slip out of Robin’s grasp, but stopped when she caught him by the wrist. She had always been fair, but her face had gone the color of whey. Lissa had just pried off her boot, and he glanced at her ankle, but it didn't look damaged enough to fit with her expression.

Not knowing what else to do, he leaned against the wall and murmured, “I'll be right here.”

Robin nodded, ducking her head away from him and tightening her grip.

“Just a nasty sprain,” Lissa said as the green light from her staff washed over them. “You should be all right in just a few minutes.”

Strangely, this news didn't seem to cheer Robin. If anything, she seemed to shrink into herself a little more. Chrom wracked his brain for an explanation, but despite having two sisters of his own, he had no idea what she might be thinking. A thing that was not unusual when it came to girls, well, except for Sully.

“That will give us plenty of time to catch up,” Lissa went on, her smile edged in iron. “We could talk about things like how you ended up over here in the first place.”

Robin clenched her hand reflexively around Chrom’s wrist.

Lissa put her hands on her hips. “I do pay attention when you're laying out your strategies, you know.”

“Um, Lissa,” Chrom said, surreptitiously rotating his wrist in an effort to loosen Robin’s hold, “We'll go over everything once we reach the capital.”

Lissa pouted for a moment before Frederick waved her over.

“All right,” she said. “But I want to hear everything. And I mean _everything.”_

“She means well.” Chrom shook his head. Despite his sister’s aspirations to put on five years over night, her impish side shone through every so often.

Robin nodded, her gaze distant.

“I should probably see what I can do to speed things along.”

To his surprise, she hopped off the barrel. And to his relief, she relinquished his wrist.

Her chin trembled for a moment before a mask of cheerfulness fell into place.

_I'll see what I can do from my end._

The image of her standing on her used up tomes flashed before his mind’s eye. Hopefully she'd eventually open up to him. In the meantime, he should probably find Miriel so he'd be ready when she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Kellam. But at least the Shepherds are all together once more—even if pretty much everyone but Kellam and Robin had no idea they'd left anyone but Sumia behind. Yay for the power of medicine! Once Robin gets filled in, she's going to find so many uses for that stuff!
> 
> The next chapter should be interesting. Robin sort of clammed up there near the end. Despite all the progress she's made, there are still some things she can't bear to look in the face quite yet. There will be much more on this later on.
> 
> *Special Note* As of this chapter, FRACTURED is up to date on this site. Tomorrow, 8 June 2018, will mark the start of my regular updates that occur every other Friday. The next chapter, after tomorrow's, will be 22 June 2018.


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

The journey to the capital took most of the rest of the day. By the time they'd arrived, the sun had fallen beyond the horizon. Only the tiniest sliver of golden orange remained in the sky to mark its passing.

Chrom had tried to catch her eye a number of times along the way, but Robin had managed to duck away every time he approached.

It was bad enough she'd broken her promise to him, even if she hadn't meant to, but breaking in front of him—

Robin hugged herself as she stared out the window without really seeing anything. That cold, empty place in her chest had grown so large. When she'd been back in Ylisstol, and even on the march out to Ferox, she'd nearly managed to forget it had existed at all.

Maybe that's why it hurt so much now.

She'd allowed herself to grow comfortable, to believe she was a part of something when she didn't even really know herself at all.

"Robin," Lissa called through the door. "We know you're in there."

"Oh! Um, would it be all right if we come in?" Sumia said.

Robin squeezed her eyes shut against the fire caught in her throat. As soon as they'd been shown their quarters, she'd holed up in her room, ignoring the call to supper.

It wasn't hiding if everyone knew where you were.

She hugged herself a little tighter, one scene playing itself over and over in her mind's eye. Kellam's face. Sunlight. The sensation of falling. And her body smacking into cold, Feroxi stone.

Whatever she'd done, it wasn't magic. Magic didn't work that way.

Did it?

And then there was the name that marred the back of her right hand. Did that have anything to do with what had happened or was it a separate issue?

Robin rubbed her temples. The tightness in her chest, the sudden weight bearing down on her shoulders, the pounding in her head, all forced her to step back and evaluate.

What was she doing here? Until she knew more about her . . . whatever it was she'd done, she was a danger to everyone she cared about.

And who knew what anomaly she'd perpetrate next?

What if she'd been standing next to Chrom when it had happened? Or Lissa?

"All right," Lissa huffed. "You can either let us come in so we know you're all right, or I can ask my big brother to investigate on our behalf. He wanted to talk to you any—"

Robin wrenched her door open, and she didn't know who was more surprised—Sumia, Lissa, or herself. She didn't even remember moving . . .

Lissa grinned at her. "Thought so."

"If this is a bad time, we can always come back later," Sumia said, fretting with a bundle of flowers she held in one hand.

Robin shook her head and stood aside as Lissa pushed her way into her room, her mind casting desperately through her memories. Surely she had moved. There's no way she could have teleported without realizing it.

Could she?

"All right, missy—" Lissa had her finger ready to wag before she looked at Robin's face. She faltered for a minute before her righteous indignation deflated. "I'll be right back."

"Oh. Um. Right." Sumia perched on the edge of the only chair in the room. When Robin didn't move from where she leaned against the wall, Sumia cleared her throat. "I wanted to thank you. For Kellam, I mean. For looking out for me even though Snowdrop didn't make a very good first impression."

Robin blinked as some of the fire in her throat made it up to her eyes.

_You're my friend. Of course I want you to be safe._

The tension in Sumia's posture went out of her. "I could have made it safely on my own."

_I know._

Sumia leaned forward until Robin looked her in the eye. "You were just looking out for me. And Snowdrop."

_Yes._

"So why not let us look out for you too?" Sumia said the words so softly, she might have been talking to herself, except she held Robin's gaze and refused to let it go. "That's what friends do."

Friends.

The cold from earlier seemed to have woven itself through her soul. Would they still consider her their friend if they knew the name she bore and that she'd worked to hide it from them?

Would they still be friends if she misfired again and someone ended up getting hurt—or worse?

Robin forced herself to smile. She gestured to her room. _We're safe here_.

Because of the late hour of their arrival, their audience with the khan had been delayed until the morrow. Even so, she highly doubted the Feroxi would go to all the trouble of making room for them if they meant them harm.

"But we weren't out there."

Robin went still as she relived the memory.

Armor.

Light.

Stone.

"All righty then." Lissa said as she hefted a tray onto the small table by the door. It rattled as she settled it into place.

Sumia eyed the tray. "What's all that?"

"We," Lissa announced grandly, "are going to have a tea party."

"A tea party?"

Robin raised a brow. She'd heard of them, of course, but had thought them relegated to childish pastimes.

"It's a princess thing," Lissa explained as she began to lay out the contents of the tray. "It's also a way to get Robin to eat when she's being stubborn."

Robin raised her other brow. This was certainly news to her.

"If you won't come to supper, supper's coming to you." Lissa poured something dark and steaming into the three teacups before handing one to Robin and another to Sumia. Using a pair of tongs, she scooped some sort of white things into their cups. "Tea is not a Feroxi thing, however, so I hope you guys like hot chocolate."

"Chocolate?" Sumia perked up, all smiles. She brought her cup up to her lips, closed her eyes, and . . . sniffed the steam rising from her cup?

Robin glanced at her own cup, apprehensive. Was chocolate another word for enchantment?

Lissa nodded, looking extremely pleased with herself. "You should try some, Robin. If hot chocolate doesn't cheer you up, we may have to resort to drastic measures."

Something about the look in Lissa's eyes warned her that she would probably like the so-called 'drastic measures,' even less than landing in the middle of a contingent of Feroxi soldiers.

With a sigh, Robin took a tiny sip. Her eyes widened as a creamy, earthy sweetness invaded her senses. Suddenly Sumia's reaction made a lot more sense.

"See? I told you." Lissa pushed a plate over to Robin. "Now eat this and let's talk."

_Talk about what?_ Memories of the day darkened Robin's brow, making her feel decidedly less than helpful.

For a second, Lissa looked ready to goose Robin on the head with her staff. Then she took a deep breath and smoothed her features. "We have a variety of things we can talk about. Like how you ended up with the Feroxi. Or why you wouldn't tell Chrom you'd been injured. And hey! Speaking of my brother, we could also discuss why you're avoiding him." Having delivered her decree, Lissa took a dainty sip of her hot chocolate.

Despite the pinpricks of fear each topic engendered, Robin had to hide her smile behind her teacup. Whether intentional or not, Lissa was the very pigtailed image of her older sister, right down to how they curled their pinkies.

She glanced at Sumia, expecting her to be anxiously brainstorming ideas for less . . . controversial conversation. Instead, her friend met her eyes and waited.

Well . . . darn.

_You aren't going to let this alone, are you?_

Lissa took another dainty sip and shrugged. "We're family."

Sumia nodded in agreement. "No Shepherd stands alone."

Robin squeezed her right hand into a fist. She hated being afraid—especially when she had no idea why she was so afraid in the first place. The mark, her new ability, the differences that made her stand out, those were all just symptoms of something bigger—something more important.

And for the life of her, she couldn't remember what.

_Fine._ She pursed her lips. _What do you want to know?_

Eyes shining, Lissa leaned forward. "How in the heck did you go from spell slinging Frederick's rock collection to up by the tower without going through any of the gates?"

Robin shook her head. _No idea. Next question._

"What?" All signs of Composed Royal fell away, and Lissa was a fourteen-year-old girl once more. "Hey! No fair!"

"We saw you, Robin." Sumia set her cup down. "You were there one second and then gone the next. It was like you'd vanished."

Robin's carefully built wall started to crack. How many times had she replayed that particular memory? She had so few of them as it was, and for the first time she wondered if that wasn't a good thing.

A fresh start from whatever she'd been before.

_I don't know._ A few more cracks appeared and her throat burned. The memory was there in her mind's eye, every bit as vivid as it had been the first time.

_I was throwing stones when Kellam surprised me._ She blinked. _It was so bright. I stumbled and fell. And then it was . . ._ The words fell apart at her fingertips. It took her a moment to remember she'd been explaining. _Then hard and coldness and I couldn't breathe. A Feroxi lancer staring down at me in surprise._

Perhaps the most frustrating thing was everyone was going to wonder. Some of them would ask questions.

Questions Robin had no idea how to answer.

Sumia stared down at her hot chocolate like she was diving the future. "Miriel would probably know what happened. And if she doesn't, she'd be the best one at figuring it out."

"Yeah." Lissa sat back in her chair. "I wonder if she's still up."

Robin stiffened. It was suddenly very hard to breathe again.

"Why don't we get through tomorrow first," Sumia said, giving Robin a reassuring smile.

Lissa glanced at her as Robin forced her fingers to uncurl from her fist. "Probably a good idea. So why didn't you tell anyone you'd been hurt?"

The suddenness of the question startled the truth from Robin's fingers. _It wasn't that important._

She immediately regretted not thinking her words through when Lissa's eyes narrowed and she flared her nostrils. It was the look she wore whenever the person she was trying to heal wasn't cooperating.

Robin still had half-remembered nightmares of that expression.

"You're a Shepherd, Robin." Sumia furrowed her brow. "Of course it's important."

"Did you get a concussion when I wasn't looking?" Lissa demanded.

Robin shook her head, clenching her teeth around the words piling up on her tongue.

"Then tell me why on earth you think an injury like that wouldn't matter." Lissa was gripping her staff so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

For a moment, Robin could see Lissa's older brother in the every line of her, which brought to mind the look he'd given her the first time he'd seen her after she'd vanished herself to the wall.

If he had been angry, she would have understood. If he had been frustrated, that would have been bearable. Instead, he looked at her as he always had, and it was remembering that softness that tore down the rest of her wall.

_People could have died._ She pushed herself off the wall, trembling with the words that she'd held so close with the intention of never setting them free. _Because of my recklessness, my,_ she waved her hand dismissively, _my whatever it was, people could have died. Any of them could have died, and they all put themselves in harm's way to rescue me. They rushed when it was the most dangerous to hurry. So, yes, compared to that, a little sprain was hardly a thing of any import!_

Robin froze as she felt something trickle down her cheek. She reached up with one hand, surprised to find a tear she didn't remember crying.

"Idiot," Lissa said, but she was smiling and her tone gentle.

To Robin's surprise, she came over and gave her a hug.

"Yeah, but she's our idiot." Sumia said, joining the hug. "Er, I meant—"

"We know what you meant." Lissa grinned.

Neither girl moved until Robin relented and returned the hug. It felt strange, almost unnatural.

And yet . . .

And yet it felt like she'd been waiting her whole life for this moment.

_Didn't you have a third question?_ she asked once they'd separated. Fear was still coiled tight in her belly, but if she wanted to put roots down, she was going to have to learn how to reach beyond that fear.

Lissa's pigtails bounced as she shook her head. "Nope. I think I already know the answer to that one."

The wink Lissa gave her was far from reassuring. When she turned to Sumia, Sumia was giving her a smile that was warmth lined with a quiet kind of sadness.

Oh no! Had she spoken amiss? Again. Robin pressed her lips together and resolved to corner Lissa later on to find out what questions she should avoid asking each Shepherd so she didn't have to worry about inadvertently trampling on everyone's tender spots.

Watching Sumia very carefully, she asked, _Are you all right?_

"I was wondering," Sumia held up the bundle of flowers she'd brought with her, "if it would be okay to try another flower fortune."

Robin's heart constricted a little, but she nodded. Besides taming demon pegasi, the other time that Sumia allowed herself to shine was when she was plucking meaning out of petals strewn across the hearth.

Sumia hadn't answered her question, not really, but Robin had a feeling that Sumia needed to hold onto whatever it was just a little bit longer.

But when it was time, she and Lissa would be there. Robin tipped her head back to drain the last drop from her cup. And they'd come armed with flower petals and a jug full of hot chocolate.

Lissa clapped her hands. "I've thought of a few more questions—if you have enough flowers, that is."

Sumia laughed, and the sadness bowed to the spark of happiness in her eyes. "Don't worry. I've brought plenty."

Despite her trepidation, Robin allowed herself a small smile. Maybe this time her future would be filled with light and laughter instead of ashes, smoke, and regret.

* * *

Robin tugged her blankets more tightly around herself, contemplating the necessity of the pillow lying on her bed, and wondering if it would really be worth the trouble of getting up to fetch it.

They'd made a nest of blankets near the hearth while Sumia told their fortunes.

Well, Lissa's fortunes. None of Robin's made any sense, and over half of them had been incomplete. But they hadn't been all doom, death, and destruction either, so there was that.

She yawned and eyed her pillow again, feeling heavier with each breath. In the end, she decided to forget her pillow in favor of sleep.

Snuggling down in her nest, Robin turned to face the hearth. Her eyes were heavy enough that the fire went slightly out of focus. Even so, something about its ever changing shape, the crackle of the logs, and the hiss of sparks captured her attention.

Her eyes widened as the flames dancing in the hearth tugged away at the shadows. Pulling and shaping the pieces of darkness until they began to look like something deliberately made rather than random shades of night.

Clenching her right hand into a fist, Robin went completely still as she waited. Was this another oddity? Another thing that made her different? Was this her doing? Or something else?

Slowly, the shadows fashioned something that looked like flower petals. Two flower petals that were regarding her with measured curiosity. Then it fanned it's wings, and Robin forgot to breathe.

Recognition of a lost memory hit her hard enough to stun her. As if it had only been waiting for her to almost remember, gold spiraled out along the wings in abstract shapes.

Trembling, she held out her hand, extending two fingers. The motion felt as natural as falling, so why did it frighten her?

Then the shadow fluttered over to her, spilling golden dust with every flap of its wings. It hovered just out of reach, wisping here and there in graceful arcs.

_Butterfly._

The word sat on the tip of her tongue, anxious and shy, without the means to fly free.

Then, as if sensing the word, the butterfly dipped and then fluttered toward her door.

Robin had only meant to watch it. To try to piece together the fragments of her past that lay just beyond her grasp. But when the butterfly hesitated before it flew through the door, she was on her feet and out in the corridor without conscious thought.

The stone beneath her bare feet was cold enough to burn, to send shivers chasing up her spine, but the dark wings trailing like wet ink pushed all other thoughts and considerations out of her mind.

The butterfly led her onward, down corridors, through empty halls. Stone smoothed into wood bunched up into thick carpets, the pattern repeating itself, but never in the same order.

Her heart beat in time with the butterfly's wings, fluttered in her chest as if to traverse the distance beside her, marking the tempo for her feet to follow.

It had been a secret thing, this butterfly. A hidden thing. The memory was soft and misty, but though she couldn't see it well enough to understand it, her heart recognized it.

The truth within it.

The sting of disappointment on her hand.

The sudden fear of shadows with teeth.

And beneath it all—the wonder.

The butterfly waited patiently as she stumbled up a couple of low steps. Dried out rushes crunched beneath her feet, releasing the aroma of sweet scented herbs as she crossed the hall.

Three glass panes had been set into the wall on the far side, reflecting the flicker of torches and the stillness of night.

She was close enough that she might have stretched out her fingers and brushed them against the shadow silk wings. But just as the thought formed, the butterfly flew into the glass, leaving behind ripples like the passing of a stone through water.

Robin's fingers slipped across the surface of the glass, leaving ripples of their own. And there, just beyond her reach, the butterfly fluttered in a cloud of golden dust.

As though it felt the prick of her attention, it darted out of the first pane of glass and into the second.

Something like longing and laughter bubbled up in Robin's throat as she reached for the butterfly once more.

As before, her touch left concentric circles rippling outward from the window. This time, instead of pulling back, she pressed her fingers against the glass. The cold of it burned against her fingers and it resisted the intrusion, though she won out in the end.

Once she had buried her arm up to her elbow, the butterfly flitted back into the hall before it dove into the final pane.

Delight tempered with heartbreak allowed her to see what she had missed before. Two tiny figures wrapped in pine needles and emerald leaves. A forest of secrets she could nearly understand. She squinted at the butterfly's riddle, trying to make out the details.

The butterfly had nowhere else to go, but did she truly wish to catch it?

And if she did, what would she do with it then?

The glass rippled at her touch, but she hesitated. Caught between the riddle and the answer, not willing to push through, but neither was she willing to give it up.

Maybe if she just—

"Robin?"

A voice like sunshine and clover brushed against her mind. She turned halfway, but her gaze remained locked on shadowy wings fluttering deeper than night.

She was so close. The answer was right there, waiting for her to dredge up the courage—the will—to catch hold of it.

To claim it as her own.

"Robin, you're like ice."

A warm weight was thrown around her shoulders, dimming the promise that lay within the glass. She struggled against the weight, desperation clinging to her fingertips. The memory was important. A skeleton key to her amnesia. If she could only just—

"Milord, perhaps I should deal with this. It is hardly fitting—"

"Forget propriety, Frederick, and help me secure her!"

Something like iron clamped down on her sides, trapping her arms in place. She fought as best she could, but her strength flowed out of her as the distance between hope and despair widened.

A wintry forest traced itself upon her heart as the butterfly vanished from the world. Each crack a memory she would never recover.

The loss of it was a sword to the gut, and what was left of her heart bled through the gaping wound in long tendrils of fire.

But even as her heart shattered, the low murmur of voices, the pressure of her cocoon, the sound of her name, they all wrapped themselves about her, holding everything tightly in place.

They held her long enough, she realized, for the jagged edges of her heart to blend together just enough to begin mending.

Her face bathed in cold fire, she surrendered her hope and despair, keeping a small shard of each.

To remember.

Out of the stillness that followed, someone began to hum. Halting at first, but gaining depth and confidence enough to weave words in with the music.

"Hush my sweetling, dry your tears. The moon is bright, and shines tonight, amid a sea of stars."

She turned her face toward the song, curling around it as her consciousness faded into a restful slumber.

"Hush my sweetling, the time is come. Let go your fears, your dreams draw near. Safe in my arms where you belong."

* * *

The morning came gently for a change.

The warmth of the sunlight slipped through the slats of the shutters to wash over her, drawing her out of her dreams.

Robin nestled into her pillow, not quite ready to wake. Her linens smelled of fresh clover and were nice and warm. Not even the threat of frogs could drag her out of—

She froze as she became aware of a sound like that of a heartbeat. But whereas hers had sped up, it remained slow and steady. It was then that she realized her pillow had been undulating oddly against her cheek.

Alarm clamped down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. Her eyes flew open, but the world remained a riddle one clue short from having an answer.

Had she fallen into a sky lined with . . . buttons . . . ?

. . . Wait . . . a minute . . .

Robin startled as the details of her situation slammed into place with excruciating clarity. A firm weight kept her from spilling onto the floor while the blanket she was swaddled in kept her from doing anything meaningful to extricate herself.

Chrom mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a garbled lullaby.

Her cheeks burned with the fragments of a memory that might have been a dream. Except dreams weren't comfortably solid and they had the decency to vanish upon awakening.

What was she going to do?

Now that the first wave of panic had passed, Robin realized there was one thing that was paramount to all else: she couldn't wake Chrom.

Slowly. She needed to move slowly.

She stretched her fingers out with deliberate care, pushing through the soft folds of her blanket as she sought a way to free herself.

To no avail.

Grinding her teeth in frustration, she studied the angle she was at versus the floor. If she could move just a few inches, she'd be able to slip out from under his arm.

Now that she had a plan, Robin waited a few moments for her racing pulse to slow. Everything was going to be okay. She could do this. It wasn't as though she was just doing it for herself. No, they'd be able to avoid a world full of awkward embarrassment so long as she kept her head.

That's right. She was doing this for Chrom. Her captain and her pr—

Shutting off her thoughts, Robin made a tiny experimental movement. When Chrom didn't stir, she let out her breath and began to carry out her plan. To her delight, it moved along smoothly.

Right up to the point his eyes cracked open mid shimmy.

He stared at her, his gaze still unfocused and his eyes heavy with sleep. Robin held her breath, but the longer he stared, the more focused his gaze seemed to grow.

"Robin?"

With a silent yelp, she dove for the ground. In his surprise, his arms fell slack, which gave her the out she'd been searching for. She tumbled onto the ground while Chrom bit off a shout of his own.

They both surged to their feet, her blanket unfurling from her legs. The shape and movement were so familiar that it only took a moment for her to make the connection.

"Robin, I—"

Whipping the fabric away from herself, she thrust his cloak toward him and backed up a few steps, her fingers a blur of embarrassed apology.

Seeking for something—anything—to anchor her, her gaze darted about the room. Wait. There! She recognized her pile of books in the corner—

"Robin, this isn't . . . Let me explain," Chrom said, addressing the ceiling.

—right as she became aware that she was clad in her sleeping shift and trailing ribbons.

She snatched his cloak back and wrapped it around her as an improvised toga of sorts. Then, imagining she had command of the situation, she jabbed a finger in the direction of the door.

"Robin, I—please—"

_Later._

_Out._

_Now!_

"O-of course. We'll talk later."

Chrom ducked his head and, while he didn't exactly run, he most certainly fled.

Once he had shut the door behind him, Robin crossed the room and turned the key in its lock. Only then did she relax her hold on the cloak.

She grimaced at the sight of the half knotted ribbons trailing from her sleeves and bodice.

With an alacrity she rarely exhibited in the morning, she was fully dressed within a minute or two. Another minute to drag a comb through her hair, but nothing short of dunking her head in a bucket of water would keep her hair from standing on end. Another to clean both her face and her teeth.

And a final minute to fold the cloak into a neat little packet.

There, she admonished herself. Almost like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. All she had to do was return his cloak, and then it might as well have not happened at all.

Yes.

Precisely.

Stiffening her spine, Robin turned the key and marched out of her room.

Chrom was waiting for her at the end of the corridor, pacing the width of it with short, agitated movements.

"Robin, I am so very sorry." He reached one hand toward her before he thought the better of it and turned it into a wave of sorts.

If Robin hadn't been in the death throes of mortification herself, she might have laughed. Instead, she handed him his cloak. Then she stepped back, crossed her arms, and composed her expression.

_Well?_

Chrom stopped pacing.

"The commander of Longfort took Frederick and me on a tour of their training grounds. She also arranged for us to speak to the soldiers we battled against. To gain an understanding."

He looked at her, so earnestly pleading, but Robin was completely lost as how any of this had to do with her.

"It was late by the time we finished, and when we were headed to our rooms, you were standing there by the windows."

Robin frowned. What on earth had possessed her to traipse through the Feroxi Hall in her sleeping shift? And why had she no memory of it?

"We tried calling to you," Chrom went on, color darkening his cheeks and the tips of his ears, "but as we drew closer, it became apparent that you were sleeping."

_I was . . . asleep?_ If anyone other than Chrom had told her this, she would have concluded they had either lost it or they were toying with her.

The color in Chrom's cheeks deepened. "And then when we realized—" He held out the arm he'd draped his cloak over and made a vague throwing motion.

Robin blinked at him, her own face burning. Really, could it get any worse?

_That doesn't explain everything_.

"Yes, well, you didn't take kindly to being covered up, so I carried you to your room." Chrom shuffled his feet. "I, er, tried to put you down, but you . . ."

_I, what?_ Robin asked, not entirely sure she really wanted an answer to her question.

For the first time, Chrom looked at her squarely, no hint of embarrassment in his gaze. "You were crying, and it only got worse whenever I tried to put you down. So I didn't."

All those many times before when she thought she was going to die of mortification? Well, it turned out she had no idea what mortification really was.

Until now.

"Nothing happened, Robin. You have my word. I remembered an old lullaby my mother used to sing, and that seemed to calm you. I must have dozed off somewhere between then and a few minutes ago."

Robin worked her mouth and twisted her fingers, but words remained elusively beyond her grasp.

Which was probably for the best. While she liked to believe the worst was behind her, experience had proven that such thoughts were dangerously notorious for proving her wrong.

And she hadn't even had time to try to explain to Chrom what had happened and why she'd apparently broken her promise.

No, instead she'd just forced him to walk over hot coals for the crime of protecting her dignity and having compassion.

It was no wonder that she couldn't find words. There were _no_ words sufficient for the apology she owed him.

"You can verify with Frederick. He was there for everything but," Chrom cleared his throat as a blush dusted his cheeks, "the, er, song."

And now she'd made him think she doubted him.

Before she could scrape together the beginnings of an apology, Lissa skipped around the corner.

"Hey Chrom! Robin!" Her grin faltered. "Yeesh, who died? Wait. Does this mean you told him?"

The relief on Chrom's face at the change of conversation was almost palpable. "Told me what?"

"You didn't yell at her, did you?" Lissa frowned at her brother while linking her arm through Robin's. "It really wasn't her fault, Chrom. She didn't do it on purpose, and had no idea she could work that kind of magic."

Robin dropped her face into her hands. In exactly none of the stories she'd read did the maiden whose honor was being defended die of embarrassment. Here she had not one, but two defenders. So was it a personality defect on her end or—

Chrom shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Liss." He glanced at Robin, causing a blush to burn itself across her cheeks. "Robin hasn't given me any cause to reprimand her."

He moved to rest his hand on Falchion, as he always did when the ground beneath him turned less than solid, and he seemed at a loss when his hand found nothing but air.

Robin stiffened just as his movement drew his little sister's attention.

"Well, that's good to hea—Hey, where's Falchion? You're never not wearing it." Lissa rolled her eyes and grinned at Robin. "I swear my brother even wears Falchion when he's sleeping. I don't care how blessed a blade is. Sharp and pointy is sharp and pointy, and one morning we're going to find Chrom skewered by Ylisse's most treasured heirloom."

The blood drained from Robin's face as the panic in Chrom's expression confirmed what she'd already guessed.

"Well, Lissa—"

_It would be unseemly to walk the halls of Regna Ferox armed,_ Robin supplied. Chrom was great at many things, but anything he said would only further implicate him in a crime he hadn't even committed. _Hospitality laws a stricter here than they are back in Ylisse._

Lissa frowned as she rubbed her thumb along the shaft of her staff. "Do you think it's okay for me to carry this around? I don't want to mess up our mission."

Chrom laughed. "So long as you can restrain yourself from hitting anyone with it, I think you'll be fine."

"I dunno, Chrom." Lissa made a face at him. "I can only _try_ to do my best."

Robin took a deep breath. She was a tactician, and this was an easy problem to solve.

_Lissa, do you know where they're serving breakfast?_

Lissa's smile returned. "Yep. I was actually coming to make sure you didn't forget to eat. Again."

_I'm not that bad._ Robin narrowed her eyes as Chrom and Lissa exchanged a look. _I eat when I need to._

"Right," Chrom and Lissa said in unison.

Robin gritted her teeth, reminding herself to keep the bigger picture in mind. _Well, I need to eat now. Lead the way._

"Breakfast sounds good." Chrom swallowed a yawn, and for the first time Robin noticed the tired lines around his eyes.

She put up a hand and widened her eyes, hoping he'd get the message. _I thought you might like to make sure Falchion is safe first._

Chrom looked her in the eye so she could not mistake his meaning. "I trust that Falchion is safe. I wouldn't have left her there otherwise. Besides, I'd like to hear more about what Lissa was talking about."

_Her?_

Lissa shook her head as she took the lead. "Apparently. When he was younger—"

"No changing the subject." Chrom refastened his cloak. "What were you talking about earlier, Liss?"

Lissa glanced at Robin who nodded tiredly. She was going to have to explain things sooner or later, and at least this way breakfast could serve as a small distraction.

"How she beat us all into Longfort."

Chrom folded his arms and gave Robin a look she couldn't quite decipher. "Good. I've been wondering."

Suddenly she didn't feel hungry anymore.

A craven part of her wanted to duck her head and run, since she still hadn't worked out how her vanishing act worked. But a surprisingly large part of Robin couldn't allow her to do that. Chrom had spent time he could have used to get some much needed sleep doing what he could to soothe her fears.

Now it was her turn.

_How much do you know about magic?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, remember that really weird prologue? Highly applicable here and a hint as to what's coming.
> 
> Lissa's impromptu tea party was not something I expected, and I wasn't really sure how well it fit. I tried cutting it completely, when a not-delicate pigtailed princess put her foot down. I've been writing long enough to know that there are just times you have to trust your characters—especially if they are holding a rather dented healing staff and giving you pointed looks.
> 
> So the tea party stays. I figured anyone living in the frozen north needed something to keep body and soul together, and apparently hot chocolate with marshmallows is that something. O.o
> 
> This was probably my favorite chapter to write so far. Not as fun as treeing Robin and then having her enact revenge, and vent her frustration, on a couple of innocent deciduous bystanders, but special in its own way. I had no idea Chrom was going to sing her a lullaby until he'd started. (Prior to this I had sort of assumed that he couldn't really sing, on key, that is. Turns out I was wrong.) No idea the butterfly was going to appear until it flitted out of the shadows and through the glass. And no idea a certain character *looking at you Chrom* was going to start working things out this soon. Originally I'd planned a sort of Cinderella moment.
> 
> The lighting.
> 
> The gown.
> 
> Robin in the gown.
> 
> The moment their eyes meet and [redacted because this part still works and is going in the story darn it!]
> 
> Anyhow, this is technically their B-Support conversation. A-support will happen soonish. I didn't go with the original B and C supports because they really wouldn't work as well with Robin being mute, and Robin, Chrom, and I all decided that it was better NOT to risk spontaneously combusting from embarrassment.
> 
> That's right, we're doing this—Er, not doing this, I guess—for you guys. 0:)
> 
> But I did want to capture some of the emotional beats from the supports. I figured *cough* vulnerability was a big one, and when I plugged that one in, I got a window hopping butterfly made of shadows. By this point, I just shook my head and followed them around, writing as fast as I could. Sometimes the characters really do know what they're doing. :p
> 
> A special thanks to all of you for reading and/or commenting and/or kudos. You guys are awesome, and I’m very lucky to have you! :)


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

Chrom had taken the news well, all things considered.

While they were eating breakfast in the dining hall, Robin explained things as best she could. He'd asked a few questions, but mostly he'd just listened—until Lissa brought up that they'd decided to enlist Miriel's help in figuring out how Robin's vanishment worked.

"It's going to be so much fun!" Lissa clapped her hands and bounced in place, no doubt imagining feats of grand heroics of some such or other. "I can't wait for you to start practicing! Do you think we'll be able to start right away?"

"Absolutely not." Chrom gave his sister one of his looks that would brook with no discussion.

"Why not?" Lissa demanded. "Just think, Robin could be anywhere she wanted in a blink of an eye. If someone needs rescuing, BAM! She can be right there!"

Chrom frowned. "Don't they have staffs for that?"

"Well, yeah. I guess so." Some of Lissa's excitement dimmed. "But Maribelle and I aren't skilled enough to use them yet."

"We can wait."

"But Chrom!"

Robin held up a finger. _Actually, it wouldn't be a bad idea to learn how to control this_. She gave him a weak smile when he turned his glare on her.

"What of your promise?" Chrom's glare softened just enough to pin her in place. He leaned forward, an arm on the table. "How do you propose to keep your word while exercising your ability to vanish halfway across the battlefield?"

Robin swallowed all the denials building up in the back of her throat. Her mind had been busy all through breakfast. While she didn't quite share Lissa's enthusiasm, she couldn't deny the potential benefits of being able to vanish from one point only to reappear at another.

Still, there was something in his gaze that held her. She couldn't lie to him, not when he was looking at her like that, so she'd have to stick to telling him the truth. Carefully.

_The point of learning to control it is so that I won't pop up behind enemy lines on accident. See? Promise kept_. She gave him what she hoped was a confident smile.

"And she doesn't necessarily have to use it for battle," Lissa said. "If we need supplies or to send a message out or get some real food . . ."

_It could have really been helpful yesterday_ , Robin pressed for her advantage. _We_ _could have avoided the fight entirely_.

Chrom folded his arms and leaned back on his bench. He stared at her for a small eternity before his expression softened a little more. "One condition."

Robin nodded for him to go on.

He paused, holding her gaze.

"Well, what is it, Chrom?" Lissa demanded, tightening her grip on her staff.

The look he gave Robin was far too knowing. "Promise me that you won't vanish behind enemy lines on purpose either."

Now it was her turn to glare.

"Wait. What? Robin wouldn't—" Lissa glanced at her and sighed. "Point taken."

"I don't object to you learning new things, Robin," Chrom said, his tone oddly intense. "But you can't ask me to be all right with you consciously putting yourself in danger. Alone."

An odd sort of feeling stirred in her chest. It both warmed and burned her in turns.

_What of you?_

"Me?" Chrom raised a brow.

_Twice at Longfort and once at the old parade grounds_. She watched him carefully, gauging his reaction. _And that doesn't even count Southtown or any number of skirmishes prior to our meeting._

His eyes narrowed as he followed the threads of his memory.

"You were in danger," Chrom said simply.

Robin quirked her lips. It had been the other way around in Southtown, at least part of the time. _And yet you followed me_.

"Of course I did. As captain of the Shepherds, it is my duty to ensure everyone is safe. I couldn't abandon you behind the enemy lines."

_Why not? As a prince of the Halidom, it is your duty to survive. Running toward danger makes it that much more difficult to honor your duty._

Chrom leaned forward on his elbows and pressed his palms flat against the table. "I am who I am, Robin. If I see someone in need of help, I will do what I can."

_What if that's how I am too?_

"All I'm asking is that you don't charge off on your own—with or without your magic."

Robin frowned as she considered his words. Everything he'd asked of her had been fair, but she knew herself well enough to know she wasn't sure she could keep that promise. Strategy on the battlefield demanded risk and sacrifice. If it ever came to her life or the Shepherds, well, that choice wasn't a difficult one.

"Uh, Robin? This is where you say, 'Yes, of course I won't do anything reckless.'" Lissa smiled brightly before slumping into her seat. "Aww, who am I kidding? You and Chrom are like the hero and the damsel. The second either of you get a whiff of dragon, it's all trusty steed, enchanted sword, and clang clang, slash slash. Kaboom!"

"Lissa." Despite his stern expression, Chrom looked like he was having a hard time keeping the corners of his mouth down. "Our lives are hardly a fairy tale, and when was the last time I ran off to face down a dragon?"

Lissa crossed her arms. "Clearly you have forgotten most of your childhood. I bet Frederick has any number of stories—"

"Hey!" Chrom pretended to take a swipe at Lissa, who giggled and leaned out of reach.

She batted her eyelashes at her brother. "At least in the stories the hero gets a kiss after the damsel is rescued."

A blush colored Chrom's cheeks as he sat down abruptly. "Lissa—I—that isn't—"

Robin raised a brow. There was something intriguing about him when Chrom got this flustered. It didn't happen nearly often enough. Still, she was always game to work with what she had. She leaned forward, her eyes locked on his.

_So which one of us is the damsel?_

"Ah, I see you've found your way about the Hall," Raimi greeted them. "Now then, if you've finished with your meal, the Khan should be ready shortly to hear your petition personally."

Chrom nodded, all signs of levity vanishing, and only a faint blush remaining. He stood. "We thank you for your hospitality. Robin? Lissa?"

Lissa sprang to her feet, unable to hide her excitement in being included. She cleared her throat and smoothed her skirts, every inch the royal princess from the fairy tales. From the smile that sat lightly upon his lips, perhaps that had been Chrom's intention all along.

Robin was a little slower to her feet. She had been filled with righteous indignation the day before, and had the khan been available, she'd have given him plenty to think on.

But now, in the cold light of morning, her ire had evaporated into nervous jitters. It was quite possible that the future and well-being of Ylisse depended on forming a successful alliance with Regna Ferox.

Should they fail . . .

Robin shook her head. She couldn't think like that. Failure was not an option.

"There is one more person who should be present," Chrom said as Raimi led them out of the dining hall. "My lieutenant Sir Frederick."

"I happened upon your lieutenant on my way to find you. He is awaiting your arrival."

Chrom looked a little surprised, but pleased. "Thank you."

Lissa hummed happily to herself while Robin fretted with the edges of her coat. Despite everything, they were well on their way to forming an alliance. Hopefully the khan would be more apt to listen prior to drawing his sword than his commander had been.

As if sensing the direction of her thoughts, Chrom glanced at her over his shoulder. He gave her a smile that was mostly in his eyes and a nod.

They could do this. They _would_ do this.

Robin nodded back and forced her hands to rest lightly at her side. What she wouldn't give for one of the histories the librarians had allowed her to take on her travels, if only just for its familiar weight in her hand.

Raimi brought them to a pair of heavy oak doors. Rather than the footmen that sprouted like so many pastel mushrooms back in Ylisstol, the commander threw the doors open herself.

Frederick turned as they entered what looked like a miniature of the Hall they'd just left, except this one had a rich carpet the color of the sky leading up to a matching throne. Though he didn't so much as twitch a muscle, his relief was plain to see.

"Please wait here while I summon the khan," Raimi said. Her armor made it impractical to bow, so she settled by inclining her head and lowering her gaze.

Chrom matched the gesture. "Of course."

Robin let out the breath she'd been holding. Even with the earlier mishap, Chrom had played his part well enough to make his sister proud. Frederick was his normal proper self, and Lissa was too busy trying to stand straighter and look more grown up and princessy to cause any mischief. That left only herself, but it was unlikely she would be required to do more than nod at the right times and smile.

They could do this.

Except . . .

_Is the khan away?_ she asked Chrom who was eyeing the weapons hung along the walls. Even she had to admit there was an impressive number on display.

"What? No. The khan is likely out training. They prefer battle to politics, or rather, battle _is_ their politics."

Robin had already inferred as much, thanks to their skirmish along the border as well as a number of veiled references in her books.

_Then why did anyone think diplomacy was going to work?_ she demanded. If she'd realized that upfront, her strategy would have been different from the beginning.

"I—er." A light color dusted itself over Chrom's cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Because the Exalt required it," Frederick replied as though he were explaining something as simple as water is wet and snow is heartless, cold, and vicious. "Diplomacy is Ylisse's preferred path."

Well, sure, but—

"So," Lissa said, rocking on her heels, to no one in particular, "what do you think the khan's like?"

"I'm sure he is a capable leader," Frederick said with a whiff of starch in his tone.

Robin narrowed her eyes. It might have been her nerves. Or perhaps she was out of sorts from all the sleepwalking she'd done the night before. But whatever it was, she was suddenly feeling very impish.

_Well_ , she gestured to the walls that were bristling with weapons, all sharp points and well honed edges, _he must be a warrior king_.

Chrom nodded. "From what we saw of the training grounds, I would say that's a fair assessment."

_I can picture him now. A giant of a man with unparalleled thew, his broad chest covered in hair_. She smirked as the color in Chrom's cheeks darkened and Frederick sputtered something about respect and impropriety.

"Ew! A hairy chest?" Lissa shuddered. "But what the heck is an 'unparalleled thew?'"

Frederick looked more than a little scandalized to witness those words coming from his youngest charge's lips. "Milady, such a thing is—"

"Am I now?"

They all turned toward a side door from which a tall woman with scarlet armor emerged. A broadsword rested lightly against her shoulder. She made no effort to hide her amusement as she regarded them in turn.

"Do go on."

Chrom's eyes widened, and Robin had a momentary prick of conscience for flustering him right before the khan's arrival. "You're the—?! Er, that is to say . . . The khan, I presume."

"One of them, yes. My name is Flavia."

One of them?

Though her expression grew serious, there was still a twinkle of silent mirth in Flavia's eyes. "I have been apprised of the situation, and am sorry for the troubles at the border, Prince Chrom. You are indeed welcome in Regna Ferox."

"Thank you, but I am confident we can put this misunderstanding behind us."

A slight smile lifted the corners of Frederick's lips. Robin smiled too. Chrom had put those scant few days to good use. He would never be a flower of the court, but even the court couldn't rightly fault his show of diplomacy.

Which reminded her. Where was the messenger they'd sent on ahead?

Chrom's expression became grave. "Something has been troubling me since meeting with your commander at Longfort. Is it true that bandits have been posing as Ylisseans and attacking your border villages?"

All affability went out of Flavia's face, leaving behind the stony expression of a warrior who had not yet avenged her comrades. "Yes, those Plegian dogs! We found documents proving as much on the corpse of one of their captains." Her jaw tightened as she readjusted her grip on her sword. "Plegia must see some benefit in raising tensions between your country and ours."

Chrom's frown deepened, and Robin could almost see the reflections of the flames that had devoured Southtown flickering in his eyes.

"Damn them!"

Robin's mouth fell open before she dropped her face into her hand. He'd been doing so well too.

Chrom, perhaps noting her reaction, hurried to correct his mistake. "I—forgive me, Your Grace. That was . . . indelicately put."

Lissa snorted into her hand, and Frederick shut his eyes briefly.

To everyone's surprise, Flavia laughed. "Ha! Damn them! And damn delicacy! Here in Ferox, we value plain speech."

Robin peeked out through her fingers. Plain speech was . . . good. Wasn't it?

Chrom glanced at Robin, and some of the tension eased around his brow and jaw. "In that case, you should have a word with your damn border guards."

Lissa snorted again, and even Robin was having a hard time keeping her lips from twitching. It was probably a good thing the Exalt was back in Ylisstol at the moment. Frederick was plenty scandalized on her behalf.

Flavia laughed again and clapped Chrom on the back. "Now that's Feroxi diplomacy! I like you already. In truth, I had expected someone a bit more perfumed and useless. I am glad to have met you."

"As am I. If—"

Flavia shook her head and held up a hand. "I know why you have come, Prince Chrom. Regrettably, I cannot promise any Feroxi warriors to Ylisse."

"What?" Lissa blurted out. "Why not?"

The khans words were like a punch to the gut. Had they offended her in some way?

Flavia sighed. "I lack the authority to do so."

"Forgive me. I'm afraid I don't understand," Chrom said, his brow furrowed. "Aren't you the khan?"

"I am _one_ of the khans," Flavia said, an irritated edge to her tone. "Regna Ferox is comprised of two kingdoms—the East and the West. Every few years, the khans hold a tournament. The victor then gains total sovereignty over both kingdoms. In this way, we are united."

"Ah," Frederick murmured.

"Only the sovereign khan may authorize forging such alliances. And as the West-Khan won the last tournament . . ."

Chrom's jaw tightened. "So Ylisse is to receive no aid at all."

He made a movement as if to rest his hand on Falchion's hilt, and Robin was grateful he'd left it—her—behind. They didn't need any more misunderstandings.

"Not if you are so quick to give up." Far from looking resigned, Flavia's eyes were bright with a hidden flame. "The next tournament is nigh, you see, and I am in need of champions."

"What does that have to do with us?"

"The commander of my border troops has informed me that you Shepherds are quite capable." She gave them a look that strongly resembled a pot of honey at the center of a steel trap. "Perhaps you would be willing to represent the East in the upcoming tournament. Were you to win, I would then have the authority to grant you your alliance."

Chrom gave her a measured look. "I would have assumed Ylissians had no place in such Feroxi traditions."

Flavia laughed. "To the contrary. The khans themselves do not fight, but choose champions to represent them. Otherwise our land would be rife with blood feuds and dead khans! We don't involve comrades or close kin for the same reason. Over time, it has been decided that the tournament be fought by outsiders."

Robin blinked slowly, sure she must have misheard at some point. What kind of idiotic government allowed for foreigners to fight their battles—or tournaments—in their place? Inviting armed, trained warriors into one's country was foolish at best.

"Of course," Flavia went on, "the champions have never involved foreign royalty that I know of. Regardless, it is your choice to make."

Whatever Chrom had been silently weighing through the khan's explanation, the set of his jaw and iron in his eyes made his conclusion clear.

"There is no choice, East-Khan. My people are desperate. We face not only Plegia's countless attacks, but now the added threat of the Risen. If fighting for you is the quickest way to forge an alliance, then we will pick up our steel."

Flavia laughed again, her stance no longer quite as tense. "Oh, I like you, Prince Chrom. I do hope you survive the tournament."

Frederick wasn't able to hold back his reaction to her statement, but managed to turn his surprise into a nearly credible cough.

"Come. I will show you the arena where the tournament is held." Flavia held up a hand and lowered her voice. "But be wary. I have heard that an equally able swordsman champions the West-Khan."

Chrom didn't hesitate, the glint of determination in his eye. "He shall be defeated by Ylisse's necessity."

Something flickered in Flavia's gaze to quickly for Robin to identify what she'd seen.

"Well-spoken again. I look forward to seeing if you are as equally skilled with your blade."

Despite the uncertainty hanging over them, Robin found herself breathing easier. The only advantage Frederick, easily one of the most skilled warriors on the continent, held over Chrom was that he fought with a lance rather than a sword. If the West-Khan had engaged a swordsman for his champion, then they had very little to worry about.

Chrom was more than equal to the task.

As for everything else? Well, that's what she was for.

* * *

Robin stumbled toward the baths, coat tucked over her arm, silently cursing the Feroxi. If they could have talked things out instead of having to beat the reigning khan's champions, then they'd already have their alliance and would have been on their way home by now.

Instead, the Shepherds had spent the last three days training for the fight on the morrow. Which, in turn, meant that everything hurt. Even her eyelids, strangely enough. When she wasn't dodging strikes or dying during Frederick's exercises to build their stamina, she was going over her plans, scrutinizing every last detail.

She couldn't even remember the last time she'd had a good night's slee—

Robin had only time enough to notice the shadowy butterfly fluttering beside her before something grabbed her by the shoulders from behind and yanked her backwards.

Her arms flailed from the unexpected attack, and she dropped her coat. Before she could extricate herself, she landed with a thud on cold Feroxi stone that—

Wait a second.

Robin pushed herself up, her heart pounding against her rib cage. The stone certainly looked like that of the corridor she'd been walking along only a moment ago. And yet the more her gaze darted about, seeking for something helpful to land upon, the more she could make out strange distortions that stretched stone and muddled colors.

"Sorry about that."

Robin whirled toward a voice that was vaguely familiar.

The hero from before stepped out of the shadows, the crimson underside of his cloak swirling like smoke. What was his name again? And why was he here?

Robin slipped a hand into the pocket of her trousers where she kept her spare Thunder tome. As her fingers closed around the tome, the hero raised his hands.

"I mean you no harm. Time is short as it is."

Robin raised a politely skeptical brow as she glanced at their surroundings. There was something . . . off about everything. She pulled her tome out, but didn't open it.

Yet.

The hero studied her for a long moment while she continued to take in the small details. While there were large distortions on the ground and along the walls, the whole place seemed to be speckled with them—where light fell crooked and shadows didn't lay right.

"You don't know yet." A statement, not a question.

Robin frowned, her fingers twitching with her thoughts. She'd grown so accustomed to the others being able to understand her, that she no longer carried her desk with her every time she stepped out of her room

"You can speak," the hero said, stepping backward to widen the distance between them. "Here, I mean. Your voice isn't bound in places like this."

"Places like what?" Robin's eyes widened and she put a hand to her mouth. She'd only meant to call his bluff.

He sighed, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. "I'm afraid it's probably better for you to work that out for yourself."

Robin's gaze darted about her surroundings once more, seeking for even the smallest clue that might inform her as to their whereabouts. But for the distortions, she might have been in any of the many corridors in the Feroxi Hall.

"If you won't tell me where we are, perhaps you could tell me why you brought me here." Her voice was slightly husky from disuse, but it was hers and hers alone, and Robin realized for the first time how much she'd truly missed having it. How accustomed she'd grown to the hollowness inside her throat.

"It is imperative that you win the match tomorrow."

Robin looked thoughtfully at a large distortion marring the wall to the right of her. Would it feel as different as it looked?

"You didn't have to abscond with me to tell me that. I am well aware of the stakes."

The hero pressed his lips into a fine line, and although the mask obscured most of his face, she could feel the heat in the glare he was no doubt giving her.

"Are you?" he shot back. "And what of the players?"

Robin furrowed her brow. "Players?"

"On the board. Those you will be meeting in combat. Have you weighed their strengths against their weakness?"

Robin frowned, the oddity of the place she found herself forgotten as she directed all her attention toward the hero.

Marth. His name was Marth.

"I haven't had the opportunity—"

Marth leaned forward, the urgency of his mission in every line and angle of him. And yet, there was something strangely familiar about his stance. Not to mention the shape of his sword . . .

"You will be facing warriors who have rarely been bested before, and a champion that was trained by the greatest swordsman alive."

Robin canted her head and smiled as she thought of Chrom. The West-Khan's champion was in for a big surprise.

"What is their motive?" She narrowed her eyes. "And what is yours?"

"Motive?" He stumbled a little as he stepped back.

Robin nodded, moving to close the distance between them. Shadows were all well and fine for butterflies, but she needed to see Marth's reaction. Her tome was getting heavy, and she'd like to put it away if she could.

"Do they fight for their own honor or for something greater? And you, what is it you're fighting for? You haven't told me anything I don't already know. Surely you didn't go to all this trouble just to—" Robin broke off as an unfamiliar sound echoed all around them.

She froze, cocking her head to the side. It took her a moment to recognize Lissa's laughter and . . . Sumia. Sumia's soft reply. But there was something wrong with how they sounded. Their voices were at once too loud and yet sharply muffled. Stretched high and thin, and distorted like everything else.

Robin turned to Marth, the question on her lips, when he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her into the shadows.

"Quiet!" Marth hissed as Robin bit off a startled cry. "They can't find you like this. Not yet."

"Perhaps," Robin glowered as she pulled away, "you might try speaking in something other than riddles. If you're in some sort of trouble—"

"There's no time for this," Marth gritted through his teeth. "Come."

He pulled Robin deeper into what at first glance looked like a solid wall of darkness, but instead turned out to be a doorway. Robin planted her feet and wrested her arm out of Marth's hold.

"I'm not leaving without my coat." She turned and headed toward a sliver of melon-colored light that was in the approximate direction she'd come from.

"Wait!" Marth called. "You mustn't go that way."

Robin just shook her head. She had only a few things that were tied to her past, and her coat was one of those things. She wasn't going to lose it simply because some masked stranger told her she mustn't retrieve it.

Especially when said stranger had spirited her away to who knew where.

Her temper carried her closer to the light, the sliver becoming a square becoming a rectangle.

"I won't be able to help you," Marth called, a strange sort of rasp in his voice. "You must fight as though the world depends upon it. No matter what happens, you must not hesitate."

Robin's steps slowed, and she looked over her shoulder. She frowned. Marth stood with one hand extended toward her, his cloak flashing crimson as it blew in some sort of personal wind.

"Who are you really?"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry." Then as crimson darkened to black, Marth's form began to dissolve into a cloud of butterflies. "Take care how you step into the light."

With a sigh, he vanished completely.

Robin stared at the place he had vanished, dumbstruck. "You can't just leave! How am I to get back to my own world?"

She shivered as her voice echoed in the emptiness. The shadows, once mostly on the periphery, now seemed to loom above her as they crowded in close.

In a way she couldn't put into words, the shadows were watching her, waiting for her to make her move. And unlike the small cloud of butterflies fluttering about her, these shadows did not have friendly intentions.

Malice poisoned the air, thinning it out, even as it dogged every feather-light step she took. Robin quickened her pace, but refused to run. There was something oddly familiar about the dread creeping like black ice up her spine and pooling in her belly. To her surprise, fear was just moonshine and stardust. What she truly felt was a cold, burning fury.

Her fingers curled into fists as she neared the warm light shining as a beacon from the floor. She'd dropped her coat right after Marth had yanked her back, so it should be somewhere around the light.

Heartbeat drowning out the whisper of the shadows streaming out behind her, Robin moved to cross the orange tinted light.

A feeling like Thunder without the bite shivered through her, and then she was falling.

Her cry of surprise vanished halfway through as her fingers caught hold of something rough and brittle, and she came to a hard stop that nearly pulled her arms from their sockets.

As she twisted around and braced herself against a window, she could only watch, wide-eyed as Chrom gaped at her.

"Robin?" His voice was muffled by the thickness of the glass.

He hurried over to the window, but whatever she'd caught hold of creaked ominously right before she found herself hurtling toward the ground once more.

She landed on a bed of trumpet-shaped flowers that did absolutely nothing to cushion her fall. The air suddenly smelled of mint and something sweet and subtle. And in her hand was some sort of curling vine.

Pain exploded, well, everywhere, and as Robin stared up at the untroubled blue sky, she recalled Marth's parting words.

Indignation kept her still while her lungs struggled to remember how to properly draw in air. He'd stolen her away to a world where light and shadow refused to behave properly, and he'd spent the entire time delivering cryptic messages.

Except for the last one. Proof that he could be plainspoken when he chose, but even then, his warning made no sense until it was too late to heed it.

Which was pretty useless, once you thought about it.

And still, her coat was nowhere to be found.

Footsteps thundered toward her, and Robin closed her eyes. Her head was already pounding, thank you very much, and if it pounded any harder, it was unlikely she'd be able to hammer out all the dents.

"Robin!" Chrom slid to a stop beside her.

She felt the reassuring pressure of his hands on her shoulders before Lissa called out, "Don't move her, Chrom!"

"Robin," Chrom insisted, "are you . . ."

The soothing magic of Lissa's staff fell upon her, giving her enough strength to crack open her eyes.

_Your hero is an idiot_.

Having said her piece, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to slip away in the warm emerald current engulfing her.

* * *

The first thing Robin noticed was a thread of gold running in a straight line along the exposed timbers of the ceiling. It glittered where it caught the light coming in through an open window.

Her brow furrowed as she realized the light itself was odd. More like sunlight filtered through a canopy of leaves that stained everything with a greenish cast.

The third thing she noticed was a pair of bulbous eyes peering out through the ends of Lissa's pigtail.

Heart leaping into her throat, Robin bolted upright.

"Oh, hey." Lissa sat on a chair next to Robin's bedside. She set her embroidery to the side and leaned forward. "Doing any better?"

Yes, Robin meant to say. She put a hand to her throat as she remembered what Marth had said. Her voice was bound in this world, so what world had he taken her to?

When she noticed Lissa subtly checking her for a concussion, Robin forced her frozen lips to smile.

_I'm fine_.

Lissa snorted. "Well that's good, because you scared the daylights out of everybody."

Robin hated to ask. _Everybody who?_

Lissa gave her a stern look as she ticked the names off on her fingers. "Frederick, Chrom, me, Khan Flavia. And everyone else once they hear about it. Although to be fair, Vaike'll probably see it as a challenge. Lucky thing most of the buildings around here are two stories or less, huh?"

Robin's shoulders slumped, she could already hear the dressing down she was going to receive. And she hadn't even done anything this time. She'd just been trying to—

_My coat!_ She pushed the blankets away and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

Lissa pressed her lips together and did some sort of sleight-of-staff that hooked Robin's legs and swung them back onto the bed.

"Uh uh," she clucked, pressing Robin firmly back down. "You just fell out of what the khan referred to as the Hall's attic. Two and a half stories, for your information. You're not going anywhere for a while."

_Lissa, I feel fine_. Robin shoved the staff away. _There's a number of things I need to do before the tournament tomorrow. I can't do that—where are we again?_

The room was small and fairly nondescript. Just a bed, a small table, and the chair Lissa had been sitting on.

"The infirmary."

Robin frowned. Why on earth had they taken her to the infirmary?

_I'm fine_ , she repeated. _You healed me_.

For a long moment, the only movement in the room was the swelling of the frog's body—throat?—every time it inhaled.

Which reminded her . . .

_Why do you have a frog sitting on your shoulder?_

Lissa's eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to distract me or did you land head first?"

_Lissa, I—It's right there_. She pointed.

The frog's eyes gleamed with the gold running through the wooden beam above them. Then it bunched itself up and leaped toward her.

"Ahhhh!" Robin shrieked, holding her blanket up to protect herself, right before it turned into a cloud of purple butterflies.

Time went still as her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

She had screamed.

Which meant she was in possession of her voice.

Which meant she wasn't in her world.

Then a butterfly landed on the tip of her nose.

Too astonished to do anything more than sit there, she stared at it as it lightly fanned its wings. Gold spangles glinted against the velvety purple, swirling with the movement. Mesmerizing.

Lissa sat back down and picked up her embroidery. It looked like the linen and the thread had had a violent disagreement with each other in any number of vivid shapes and hues.

"You've got to rest, silly." Lissa jabbed a needle into the linen and a new line entered the brawl, cerulean and crooked.

"You can't rest here." Unaccountably, Marth coalesced out of the shadows, hand on hilt.

As if sensing his presence, the butterfly on Robin's nose fluttered away.

Robin sat back as everything became clear. She put a hand to her head in an effort to keep it from floating away. "I'm still dreaming, aren't I?"

Lissa snorted. "Does this feel like a dream? You haven't been gone that long, have you?"

"We've got to get you back to your own world," Marth insisted.

"She is in her own world," Lissa said, shaking her head. "And from the looks of things, she's been gone far too long."

"She's needed elsewhere." Marth didn't fully unsheath his sword, but he got a good start on it.

Lissa harrumphed. "What about what she needs? If she'd stretched any thinner, she would have cracked. You can practically see through parts of her as it is."

Marth paused, reassessing the situation. "Is there a way to prevent the cracking?"

Lissa shrugged. "She needs to rest. Here. Allow her body to regenerate and heal from the damage that comes from living in a world she has no part of."

Marth stepped forward. "If the other world falls, so too will this world."

Lissa opened her mouth to argue, then sighed. "Fair point." She grimaced as she pricked her finger. "Ouch!"

"By your leave, I must return her."

"And by _your_ leave, I must heal her," Lissa snapped, sucking on her finger.

"Hey, don't I have any say in this?" Robin demanded. She'd been busy taking stock of things, and was quite certain she didn't like how the numbers were adding up. Something was very off, and the fact that she could speak out loud only underscored that point.

Lissa sighed. "I didn't want to have to do this, but you leave me no choice. Chrom!"

Marth stiffened, a small gasp escaping his lips.

Robin only had time enough to catch the detail of a swirl of white before she met stormy blue eyes that peeled away her soul one layer at a time.

Rather than giving her the reprimand she'd half expected, Chrom pulled her into his arms. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. Instead, he dipped his head toward hers, her name on his lips.

"I'm sorry." Marth caught Robin by the hand and pulled her away.

Robin cried out as her arms flailed uselessly. She tipped forward, her balance completely upended.

The pressure from Marth's grip on her hand vanished just as Robin put up her arm to protect her face against a sudden rush of butterflies. They streamed over her, morphing into wet ink that left no trace of itself behind.

Then the world was tilting.

Falling.

"Whoa! Hey!"

Robin blinked up at Lissa who was staring at her like she'd seen a ghost.

"Robin!"

Robin scrambled to her feet, her eyes on Lissa as she struggled to find her footing. They stood not far from the garden where she'd made her earlier impromptu landing. A low stone wall surrounded the area.

But was she in her world or some place else?

"Where in the heck have you been?" Lissa demanded, hands on her hips. "And how did you end up here? Everyone's been looking for you."

Robin closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her lips moved with her explanation, but no matter how hard she strained both her voice and her ears, she couldn't detect a single sound. She opened her eyes in relief.

Home, then.

"Oh, don't even try that sad little bunny look." Lissa's knuckles were white where they gripped her staff. "You really scared us!"

Robin studied her for a moment. Lissa looked and sounded angry, at least on the surface, but some other emotion was in play deeper down.

What to do?

Even if she'd had her coat on her, she didn't have a tea party stuffed into one of her pockets, but perhaps she could still offer something of her own.

_I'm sorry. Truly. I didn't mean to worry you_.

"One second you were there, and the next . . . Poof! Gone." Lissa's eyes widened as she made the connection, her earlier burst of temper falling by the wayside as excitement took its place. "Does this mean you Vanished?"

Vanished? Well, it was a serviceable name at least.

Robin shook her head. _Something like that_.

"But how?" Lissa frowned. "I was in the middle of healing you."

_I_ —Her shoulders slumped. _I have no idea_.

"Hmmm. Well, you'd better sit down and let me make sure you're okay. Then we can go get Sumia and Miriel and figure this out. Chrom—"

"I, what?" Chrom appeared on the other side of the low wall. His eyes widened when he saw Robin, and he vaulted over the side of the wall.

"Will be relieved to know you're safe," Lissa said. "Er, Robin?"

Perhaps driven by what had happened in the other world, Robin ducked behind Lissa. As they were nearly of the same height, and the fact that Chrom had already noticed her, her results were less than satisfactory.

Lissa glanced at her, up at her brother, and back at Robin.

"You know, I should let everyone know we've found you."

_What about making sure I'm all right?_ Robin drew in a few shaky breaths. That Chrom hadn't been her Chrom. Not that this Chrom was _her_ Chrom, exactly. Just that he was closer to being hers, as they were from the same world. But not hers in the possessive way. Just the one she was accustomed to.

She stopped thinking when she recalled what the other Lissa had told Marth.

Lissa twinkled a grin at her. "You look fine to me. I'll round up the others once I let everyone know we can call off the tactician hunt. Take your time though."

Robin moved to catch her arm, but Lissa could be fast when she wanted to be, and had already hopped over the low wall with Chrom's help.

Chrom.

He turned toward her slowly, his expression carefully blank.

Her fingers danced with her apology, and she found she couldn't quite meet his gaze.

Chrom cleared his throat and leaned against the top of the wall. "I see you're living up to your name."

Robin blinked. What on earth—oh.

_I wasn't trying to fly._ She crossed her arms. Even though it was May, Regna Ferox hadn't completely thawed yet. Goosebumps prickled up her arms and over her nearly bare shoulders.

"Good." Chrom hesitated. "You can't really fly, can you?"

Robin sighed. _No_.

"Probably for the best."

Chrom had no idea. If she could go rest of her life without her feet ever leaving the ground, she'd die a happy tactician.

She startled when he undid the clasp on his cloak and settled it around her shoulders.

"You're lips are turning blue," he explained.

Robin nodded her thanks. There was a question in his eyes. One she knew he'd likely never ask, because it wouldn't mean the same thing if she didn't share it on her own.

So be it.

She walked over to the wall and sat on top of it before patting the place next to her.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather go inside where you can sit by a fire?"

Robin shook her head. While it would be nice to be warmer, something about what she was going to say felt like it needed to be done beneath the open sky.

But where to start?

"Is there a reason you aren't wearing your coat?" Chrom asked after a few minutes of complete silence. "You're very rarely without it."

_I dropped it_. Robin drew his cloak more securely about her. What was it about Regna Ferox that resisted the idea of being warm?

"Oh?" Chrom shifted a little, and the gap between them narrowed. "Where?"

_On the way to the baths_. Robin shivered as the memory replayed in her mind's eye. _Right after Marth yanked me into another world, I think_.

"I don't follow."

Robin sighed again. _Neither do I, to be honest_.

"Did he say why?"

_Not exactly_. Robin closed her eyes to better focus on the memory that was steadily growing hazier. _He warned me about the fight tomorrow. That we couldn't hesitate no matter what. Then he started to vanish, and gave me cryptic advice about light_.

"So he's trying to help?"

Robin shrugged. _I went to retrieve my coat, stepped in a puddle of light, and the next thing I know . . ._ She mimed something falling and then splatting on her hand.

"And after?"

_Same thing, nearly. Only this time, Marth rescued me_. Robin rubbed her hands together to spark a little warmth into her fingers.

"Really?"

The question was in every line of him, and Robin had the sudden urge to tell him everything. Not because he wondered. Not even because he hadn't asked.

But because, unaccountably, she wanted to.

Although, how she was going to explain the other Chrom . . .

"She speaks the truth."

Robin and Chrom both jerked their heads toward Marth who was leaning against a tree a few yards away.

"Marth?"

Before she'd made the conscious decision to confront him, Robin hopped off the wall and stalked toward him.

_I need my coat back—the one I dropped when you spirited me away. Also, who was the idiot that put a doorway to the outside of two and a half stories on the ground?_

It was only after Chrom caught up with her that Robin realized that Marth probably had no idea he was being shouted at.

"I went back for your coat," Marth said, shifting his left side away from them. "You will find it in your room."

"Wait," Chrom said, a reassuring presence beside her, "you can understand?"

Robin narrowed her eyes as Marth shifted his weight once more. _Who are you really?_

Marth put up his hands. "I am a friend. That is all I can say for now."

Chrom murmured something, likely willing to wait for answers. Robin, however, was nowhere near as patient.

_Why did you take me away to that other world? And what did Lissa mean—_

"I'm sorry." To his credit, Marth sounded more than a little unhappy. "I'm not at liberty to give you an explanation now. I just wanted to . . . reassure you both. That what . . . Robin saw was real."

Chrom cocked his head to the side as he studied the riddle before them. "Robin said you rescued her, the second time. For that, I thank you."

For some reason, Chrom's simple gratitude flustered Marth more than Robin's barrage of questions.

"I—I must go now." He turned to leave, but stopped when Robin caught his arm.

_When will you be at liberty to explain what happened?_ The only thing Robin hated more than uncontrollable variables were variables that made no sense and seemed to have no connections. _In the event I find myself falling from the tops of buildings again_.

Marth grimaced. "Be wary of anything that sparkles or glints. Light is not yet your ally. And when you fight on the morrow, strike without hesitation. I must go."

Chrom lightly grasped Robin's arm and pulled it away. "Let him go," he murmured as they watched the retreating figure vanish among the trees.

_I wanted answers_. Robin shivered. Now that the sun had dipped a few cautious toes into the horizon, the air had grown colder.

"For now we need to focus on our mission," Chrom said, tucking her into his side. "After that, we can search for the answers together. In the meantime, we should probably get you some place warm."

Robin's teeth chattered as another round of shivers worked its way through her. She wasn't willing to give up quite yet, although she'd have to wait until they'd successfully championed the East-Khan. And while it might very well hold none of the answers she was looking for, her book was the only thing she could compare to whatever magic it was that pulled her into other worlds.

"Either your fingers have all frozen or you're plotting something," Chrom said. The sound of his voice pulled her out of her thoughts and anchored her back by his side.

_Which do you prefer?_

Her question startled a laugh out of him. "After today, I'm not really sure. I think my heart stopped when you appeared outside the window."

_None of that_. She nudged him in the side. _The Shepherds and Ylisse need you_.

Chrom paused as they reached a side door leading into the hall. When he looked down at her, the intensity of his gaze made her forget about butterflies, magic, and heroes that didn't have sense enough to speak clearly. Instead, a distant part of her was cradled by the wind as she soared through a sky filled with spires of ice.

"We need you too, Robin."

That simple statement lodged itself in her mind. Sprouting roots and vines, it remained stubbornly fixed in her consciousness until, at last, they formed a wary truce that allowed her to finally fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :blinks: This is what happens when you leave the characters in charge. They bat their eyelashes, promise to behave, and before you know it people are being [redacted] and falling from the outside of buildings.
> 
> The first section of this chapter was quite stubborn. I knew what needed to happen and how to get there, but the words were nowhere to be found. Until Lucina, er *coughMarthcough* showed up and spirited Robin away. So, about that . . . I figured that Lucina was hardly one to sit back and twiddle her fingers. She would have known about the Shepherds' arrival, and what it would likely mean. And while she has inherited some of Robin's tactical abilities, not to mention [redacted], and a good idea of how her father would react, the most sensible thing would be to lose the match in the arena. It would have to be a real loss, though, and she wanted to prep her parents a little beforehand. It's also entirely possible that she's a bit lonely and the temptation to see her parents again was something she couldn't say no to.
> 
> And after Lucina, we have Robin floundering through magic different from anything most people in this world have ever seen. The moment she caught hold of the whatever was growing up the side of the building, her legs dangling uselessly, and her fear of heights abought to break loose—that moment when she looks up and her gaze meets Chrom, is still vivid in my mind's eye. I think I failed to catch their expressions well enough with words. Both are astonished and on the verge of panicking for very different reasons.
> 
> Chrom and Lissa keep sneaking in little tidbits of ironic foreshadowing, and Robin's roots are starting to sprout. I think she was just as surprised as I was when she realized she wanted to tell Chrom everything. Well, everything minus the other Chrom, that is. (Seriously, I have no idea where he came from either, but the Chrom in this world could take a few pointers. :p)
> 
> The arena scene is coming up next and I can't wait to get to it!
> 
> A special thanks to all who stop by and read/comment/etc. I appreciate you all, and hope you're enjoying the journey every bit as much as I am!


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

"Absolutely not!" Chrom's glower could have melted plate metal.

There was a reason Robin had saved her surprise maneuver until nearly the last moment. Less time for Chrom to object, but that also meant she had to be extremely persuasive.

Fast.

 _Chrom_. Robin sighed. Now that she'd strapped some modified armor to herself, she sounded just like Frederick whenever she moved. The East-Khan had lent her a pair of metal gauntlets, to which Robin had added a line of metal plates that flowed up her arms and across her chest and back to connect the two gauntlets, as it were.

"You haven't even tested this maneuver. There's no way I'd allow any Shepherd to do something so incredibly foolhardy."

"Well yeah," Sully said, her eyes still wide from Robin's explanation. "But if it worked? Scary."

A number of other wide-eyed Shepherds nodded and murmured their agreement.

 _It's a secret maneuver I can guarantee they won't see coming_ , Robin argued, feeling every second that ticked on by. _So, no, I can't give you a demonstration at the risk of being observed_.

"And if it fails?" Chrom pinned her with his glare and refused to look away. "What then?"

Robin drew in a deep breath. She'd considered that scenario too. _Then I'll probably light up like a bonfire—which will then provide the distraction you'll need to avenge my untimely demise. Also, I have the most experience in dealing with magic blowing up in my face._

Chrom narrowed his eyes. "This is no time for japes."

She swallowed hard. Her legs felt like jelly, and she hadn't eaten anything for fear of disgracing herself in the arena, or before.

 _No one's laughing_.

She certainly wasn't. There was a very real chance this plan was crazy enough to work. There was an equally real chance that it could end up killing her.

Chrom rubbed his temples. "Robin, why are you so determined to leap toward the point of the sword?"

She had an answer for that too. It turned out her insomnia had granted her all the time she'd needed to sort everything out.

_This isn't about me, Chrom. And it's not about a single Shepherd. This is about Ylisse. Nothing else matters more than securing this alliance._

Not completely true. There was one command that ranked higher, but Chrom was hardly in the mood to hear that his and Lissa's safety was paramount.

She turned away then. The fight was nearing, and she needed to be sure everyone understood their part. While their group was at a numbers disadvantage—the reigning khan was granted an extra man—it was because of that disadvantage that Robin was certain they would secure the victory.

In an effort to balance the disadvantage, the silent khan's team was given the roster of those they would be facing and a reference for where each person would be standing when the battle horn sounded.

The West-Khan had taken no chances. He'd prepared a team that should be able to face any threat. Two mages, two warriors with axes, two armored knights, and a sword wielding champion.

With her plan, the knights would be no problem, and the mages easy to take out. It was the warriors and the champion they'd have to watch out for, but even then, if everyone moved as she'd shown them, Virion and Miriel should be able to cover the cavaliers well enough to take out the warriors.

That just left the champion for Chrom—and herself, provided her theory survived the initial application.

Which it should.

In theory.

"What I want to know," Frederick's glower was nearly as dark as Chrom's, "is why you've not included me in the plan."

 _Because_ , she yawned—all those hours she'd spent scheming were beginning to creep up on her— _even if he was nowhere near as skilled, Chrom is duty bound to represent Ylisse's interests to the Feroxi. You are Lissa's guard. I couldn't spare you both, so you drew the short straw this time_.

The look Frederick gave her was far from loving.

"Then let us spare you some," Chrom gritted through his teeth. "We can fight as we normally would. We've proven effective at doing so in the past."

But Robin was already shaking her head. She traced the arrows she'd drawn as she'd mapped out their movements for them. It was her most beautiful plan so far. With all the pieces moving in harmony, it was truly poetry in motion.

Time for her final play.

_Chrom, you trusted a homeless vagrant with no past and a murky future. For all you knew, Frederick could have been right, and I might have slit all your throats while you were sleeping._

_You trusted me then, when prudence would have stilled your hand. All along the road, you gave trust and received it back again._

_This time it's me asking you for your trust. If I have proven a worthy comrade and an able Shepherd, then I ask for you to trust me now. If not, then cut me loose_.

The likelihood of Chrom calling her bluff was small, and from the expression on his face, he knew that as well as she did. Even so, her heart pounded quick and hard as she waited for him to make his choice.

"You really have thought everything through, haven't you?" The frustration had gone from his voice, leaving behind a kind of bemused resignation.

Without thinking, Robin reached across the table and took his hand in hers. She squeezed his hand and nodded.

He sighed. "I chose you to be my tactician for a reason, so I can't very well reprimand you for being more than capable at outmaneuvering me here. If you are certain, then I will stand behind this hare-brained scheme of yours."

The corners of his mouth darkened with a smile he'd only partially tucked away.

Robin raised a finger. _This hare-brained scheme of mine that will lead us to victory, you mean_.

Chrom gave her a rueful laugh. "So long as it succeeds, it can be whatever you want to call it."

"Just what I was wanting to hear." Flavia stepped out of the far corner of the room where she'd been silently observing.

Robin startled, springing away from Chrom as she remembered they were in a room filled with Shepherds who were all looking far too interested in the proceedings.

"It's good to see you up and about," Flavia said. She clapped Robin on the back hard enough for her to stagger into the table. "You didn't think you would get out of this so easily, I hope."

Robin straightened her coat, feeling like a set of dented wind chimes as she readjusted her armor. Or perhaps a clumsy scullery maid.

 _Falling was the easy part. It was sticking the landing that eluded me_.

She dusted off her sleeves while Chrom translated for her, earning her another clap that she narrowly avoided. The steady pressure of his hand on her arm helped her swallow her glare and focus on more important things.

Like winning.

"If all of Ylisse is as the two of you are, then I shall have no qualms over forming an alliance." Flavia laughed. "I came to wish you good luck, but I can see that you have everything well in hand already."

Chrom nodded. "Thank you, Khan Flavia, for affording us this opportunity. We will not disappoint."

The khan laughed. "That's what I'm counting on. Now, if you're ready, it's time to take your places. Those of you who are not fighting may come with me."

Vaike grinned as he punched Robin lightly in the shoulder. "Knock 'em dead, short stuff." Then, while Robin was still sputtering for an adequate reply, he moved on to Chrom. "Best of luck. Without the Vaike, you're going to need it."

Chrom snorted, but inclined his head. "Thanks, friend."

Sumia and Lissa crowded around them next, the former holding a bunch of stems that had been stripped of all their petals.

"We'll be rooting for you, Captain, Robin."

"Yeah." Lissa waved her staff at them. "And you both better make it through okay, _or else_."

Chrom laughed and gave his little sister a hug. "Knowing that you'll be waiting out there for us, I wouldn't dare fail."

Robin jumped as the air shimmered and revealed Kellam standing squarely before them.

"Good luck. I'll be cheering you on from the sidelines."

Robin moved to reply when Frederick clamped down on her shoulder and spun her expertly around.

"You will see to Milord's safety in my place."

He wasn't really asking, but she nodded anyway.

Frederick's glance flitted over to Chrom and then back again. He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "You understand that means more than just keeping him in one piece?"

Robin raised a brow. She intended to keep them all in one piece.

He sighed as though she'd failed to understand something blindingly obvious. "Your bouts of heroism put more than his life at risk. I can't ask you not to win when it comes down to it, but do try to limit your heroics to those that are essential—both for your sake as well as his."

Robin furrowed her brow. Just what was Frederick hinting at? While she was taking her fair share of risk, she was doing so to lessen the risk the others must carry. They couldn't afford to tarry too long in the arena, and Robin had a promise to keep.

Frederick had donned his long-suffering teacher face, so she settled for nodding. For some reason, this made him sigh again as he shook his head. Giving up on her, he moved to pay his respects to Chrom.

Now that she was free, Robin made her way over to where Sully, Stahl, Virion, and Miriel had stationed themselves.

_You're sure you understand? I won't be able to communicate a change of orders easily._

The other contention to her plan was that she'd paired everyone up before splitting everyone into three teams of two.

Stahl nodded, his gaze distant as he mentally ran through his orders. "Aim for the mages right after they fire off a spell, then make for the warriors. I think we've got it."

"Here's to hoping your brand of crazy wins the day," Sully said, grinning while she saluted.

"How can it not?" Virion said. Then, sweeping into a majestic bow, "May luck be with us, milady."

Robin hid her frown. Of course the vagaries of luck could never be understated, but her plan had all but sidelined it. If they carried the day, it would not be on the shoulders of luck, but of good planning and perfect execution.

"I must say that your theory has aroused my faculties. I wonder that no one has seen fit to utilize both the magical and the physical properties prior to this point. Should your theory prove correct, I would like to study it more in depth at a later date," Miriel said, adjusting her spectacles and tucking her tome securely under her arm.

Robin smiled as best she could. Left unspoken was the fact that she would likely become Miriel's guinea pig at some point. A position that was highly uncomfortable and to be avoided at all costs.

"All ready?" Chrom joined them, determination shining bright in his eyes.

 _They won't know what hit them,_ Robin promised.

* * *

Robin froze as she took her place. Her eyes widened as she put a hand to her mouth.

"There's no way." Chrom stood beside her, his attention fixed on the lone figure standing on the far end of the arena.

If Marth saw them, he gave no indication.

 _Well_ , Robin had gone pale as whey, _he did tell us not to hesitate_. Her brow scrunched together as it always did whenever she made connections that she'd rather didn't exist.

Chrom knew the feeling, because he was making a few unwelcome connections of his own. Under the harsh lighting of the sun flowing in through the windows and any number of torches lining the circular arena, there were a number of disturbingly familiar things about the man who had saved both his sister and his tactician.

The mask obscured most of his face, but the few details Chrom could pick out, coupled with the shade of his hair, well, Marth wouldn't be out of place if he were hanging in the Exalted line's gallery back in Ylisstol.

There was something else he couldn't quite pin down that unsettled him all the more.

Robin clanked softly as she shifted her stance to touch his arm. _I need you to stick to the plan, Chrom. We'll get to him. I need to take out the knights first, and I need you to cover for me until I do_.

She wouldn't likely ever admit to being afraid, but he could see the fear in the way her fingers trembled. In the way her breath hitched a little and how she shifted her weight from foot to foot as she worried the cuffs of her coat. For a moment, she looked thin as a leaf about to be swept away by the wind.

Chrom frowned, his misgivings over her plan all the deeper for the surprise foe they must face. But if Robin was determined to try her luck, then the least he could do was ensure no one came close enough to harm her.

Knowing it would be useless, he still had to ask, "There's still time if you're uncertain."

Her eyes widened before she shook her head. _We will proceed as planned_.

He'd done all he could, save for one thing. Chrom reached over to rest a hand on her shoulder. "Then we have nothing to worry about."

Some of the tension went out of her then, and the smile she gave him was a little more genuine.

 _I expect a song if we pull this off_.

He grinned. "Something tells me the bards of two kingdoms will be at your disposal."

Her smile softened as she shook her head.

Reluctantly, Chrom glanced on either side of him. Sully and Virion waited to his right, Brazen Thunder coiled and ready to spring forward. To the left, Stahl and Miriel were in hushed conversation.

 _Chrom, I—_ For some reason Robin's cheeks had gone a bright pink when he looked at her. She took a shaky breath and nodded to where Marth waited for them. _Be careful. I don't think he's—_

"To all those who are assembled," a heavy set man bellowed from a stand that had been built into the space between the arena and the first row of benches, "it is once again time for the West and the East to prove in battle which kingdom is best fit to rule the land."

Robin grimaced, and even Chrom winced at the shouts and cheers of an audience that was packed from wall to wall and nearly reached the rafters.

When Khan Flavia had first shown them the arena, Chrom had been struck by the sheer size of it. But the arena proper was dwarfed by the space where the noncombatants watched Feroxi policy play out.

Chrom found his mind wandering as the man continued. Prior to Khan Flavia's entrance this morning, they'd all been briefed on the rules of battle. The idea was to force their opponents to yield rather than to completely defeat them, and every death would be counted heavily against the team responsible.

For a moment, he tried to picture the Great Houses of Ylisse settling things through steel and brute strength, but couldn't get past all the paperwork such a venture would entail.

Death by a thousand paper cuts.

Robin reached over and put a hand on his arm, her gaze forward as she worked out the likely angles at which the mages would attack.

"Be ye of the West or the East, fight for your khan!" The man stepped back, put a battle horn to his lips, and blew.

Chrom checked his pace as he and Robin darted forward together. They sprinted down the center, drawing the attention of the heavily armored knights as well as the mages that waited just beyond the center of the ring.

Robin squeezed his forearm as the mages stepped forward with open tomes.

Chrom could almost taste the electricity in the air. He nodded and put on a burst of speed, pulling ahead of Robin.

He was nearly halfway to the three-quarter mark when he slid to a stop, dropped to one knee, and cupped his hands together after interlocking his fingers.

The air snapped and hissed with magic. Iron seemed to coat his tongue.

Then Robin was there, her expression drawn into fierce concentration. She didn't spare him a glance as she leaped into his cupped hands and he threw her up into the air.

He put up a hand as the Wind she used to push herself higher buffeted him about. Falchion slipped easily from her sheath just as the mages released their spells.

Correctly figuring her to be the closest threat, both mages aimed their spells at Robin.

Despite the distance and the wind, Chrom could have sworn she smiled as she slipped the curved metal plates over her gauntlets and caught each spell.

The moment they hit her palm, she crossed her arms, one over the other, each one aimed at the knights waiting below.

The spells raced in red and yellow streaks along the plates she'd arranged up her arms and across her back and chest. Fire sprang from her left hand while Thunder crackled from her right.

The boom of both spells finding their targets rattled both his teeth and the stone mosaic beneath his feet.

He could dimly hear the sound of hooves charging in from behind him, but his eyes were on the small figure above that seemed to suddenly remember how much she hated heights.

Robin landed with a little more grace than she had the day before.

"You all right?" He helped her to her feet.

Though there was no way she could have heard him over the din of the spectators, Robin nodded. She was coated in ash as though she'd fallen face first into a fire pit, but she was smiling.

Not a polite court smile, but the kind of smile that had, however briefly, learned what it felt like to fly.

His mouth went dry. "Robin."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed as she pushed past him. Her sword moved in a silver arc as it clanged against the ax of a warrior that had come up from behind.

Chrom pivoted and met the attack head on while Robin jumped out of the way.

The warrior's lips were curled into a snarl as he fought hammer and tongs. For a moment, Chrom allowed Falchion to speak for him as he fell into a familiar dance.

Duck.

Slash.

Side step.

Parry.

It was only after he caught a flash of purple from the corner of his eye that he realized Robin hadn't retreated entirely. Instead, she'd gone to his left side and jabbed at the warrior between each of his movements.

What's more, she wasn't using her magic.

Chrom wasn't sure whether to be pleased or worried.

He narrowed his eyes as he waited for an opening. The warrior had been well trained, but one ax was remarkably like the next—a feature he fully intended to exploit.

The man swung and twirled the ax until it was a silver blur. He moved so quickly that he didn't have to try to read Chrom's movements. He was simply everywhere at once.

Chrom grinned. He wasn't opposed to making his own openings.

He ducked and feinted to the right, just as Robin brought down her sword in an overhead swing.

The warrior shifted his weight toward Chrom, and with a deceptively simple flick of the wrist Frederick used occasionally, the head of the ax slipped under Robin's sword and tore it from her grasp.

She stood there, shock giving way to mute fury, before she unclasped the curved metal plates she'd put on over her gauntlets.

The warrior's attention drifted toward Robin for an instant, but that was enough. He rushed forward, twisting Falchion to the side, and slipped her through a slender opening to hook the head of the ax.

Falchion in place, Chrom crashed against the warrior. The breath was smashed out of his body, but his pauldron had absorbed most of the blow. He heaved himself back, forcing the warrior to extend his arms or lose his grip.

Now to—

Something vaguely metallic streaked past Chrom's head and collided against the warrior's nose.

He risked a glance at Robin just as she threw her other metal plate. The first had only distracted the warrior, but the second made him brace himself reflexively.

That was all Chrom needed.

He feigned another rush, then threw his weight back into his heels as he heaved Falchion upward.

For an instant, the light bent toward the blade. Then Falchion sent the ax spinning away, a fallen star that faded from view.

The warrior curled his hand into a fist as he pivoted with the same kind of nimbleness he'd used with his ax. His face contorted with his cry as he moved toward Robin.

Chrom darted forward to intercept him, knowing he wouldn't make it in time.

Robin dodged the first punch, but stumbled back, unable to move in time to avoid the second blow.

Chrom caught up to them as she crumpled, holding her side. An unfamiliar rage swept through him. Pounded in his ears. Tightened in his chest. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, crackling with—

He dove toward Robin, shielding her body with his own as a Thunder snapped over them. Aether coated his tongue. Was all he could smell.

A glance over his shoulder revealed the warrior had fallen to his knees. Veins bulged along his throat and at each temple as he remained upright by the sheer force of his will alone.

"We've got this, Captain," Stahl called, lance at the ready. The only sign of Miriel was the tip of her hat standing at rigid attention just behind Stahl's head.

Chrom moved to roll up to his feet, when Robin caught his sleeve. She grimaced, her face tight.

"Robin, we've got to get you—"

She smacked his shoulder and shook her head, the ferocity of her scowl was tempered only by her pain.

_Later. Tome. Now._

Chrom opened his mouth to argue, noticed the set of her jaw, and sighed. From the way she was cradling her left side, and the blow she had taken, he would have been surprised if she hadn't broken a rib or two.

He sheathed Falchion and got to his feet. "Fine, but Lissa will be the one attending to you once we've finished here."

Having delivered his threat, he called out Robin's request to Miriel. The mage must have heard, because a moment later, a gust of errant Wind carried a worn Thunder tome over to him. He put up his hands to catch it before the tome smacked him in the face, then helped Robin to her feet.

"As you are injured, you are to remain at a distance. No charging in alone and no heroics. And don't even think of falling out of the rafters." Chrom kept his expression grave and his tone stern. Right now he couldn't afford to be anything but a captain, and Robin was going to remain out of harm's way if he had to order one of the others sit on her himself.

Something of his thoughts must have shown through, judging by the sulky nod Robin gave him.

"Right. Now let's finish this."

To both his surprise and relief, the West-Khan's champion hadn't taken advantage of his distraction. Instead, Marth had waited silently, not having moved even a single step from where he'd started.

"We meet again." Chrom felt like he had to say something as he sized up his opponent. There was something in Marth's stance and in his silence that troubled Chrom, although he couldn't pin down what it was exactly.

No matter. There would be plenty of time to work things out after they'd secured the alliance.

If only he didn't have to fight against the man to whom he owed an unpaid debt of gratitude.

Chrom drew Falchion, allowing her hilt to spin against his wrist and over the back of his hand before coming to rest comfortably in his palm. She lent him strength, while he gave her purpose.

Marth, seemingly content in his silence, echoed Chrom's movements in the shadows. His blade, however, stood starkly against the light.

"Where did you get that?" The words came out as though they'd been punched from his gut. And they might as well have been. Falchion had been forged by Naga herself. There was no other sword like her.

Until now.

"There's no way."

Robin put a hand on his arm as if to steady him, the warmth of her touch mingling with Falchion's strength.

Marth, however, remained as taciturn as ever. Instead, he seemed to be waiting for Chrom to make the first move.

So be it.

Eyes on Falchion's twin, he charged toward Marth.

Blade met blade in a clash that reverberated down his arms. Setting his jaw, Chrom began a series of slashes. If Marth wasn't going to speak, then they would just have to let their swords speak for them.

Marth parried each strike with an ease that surprised Chrom. Their movements, their reactions, it was as though they were old comrades who had fallen into familiar patterns as they sparred.

Intrigued despite himself, Chrom left a small opening on his right side. With a fluid movement, Marth exploited the opening and sent Chrom on the defensive.

Marth's strikes were clean and smooth, his sword moving so quickly, Chrom stopped trying to follow the movements and instead trusted his reflexes and the two lifetimes of training he must have accrued by now.

Something hot and white streaked past him, and he stepped to the side just as Marth brought his blade down to cut through Robin's spell.

Stepping into the opening, Chrom and Falchion moved as one, beating through Marth's defenses, and forcing him back one step at a time.

Just as he thought things were about to end, Marth dropped into a crouch, extended his blade, and then twisted it as he thrusted upward.

Chrom stumbled back in time to avoid being skewered, but it had been a close call all the same. Panting slightly, he narrowed his eyes as he reassessed his foe.

How in the blazes had Marth perfected a move that hadn't quite been invented yet?

Chrom hadn't even shown that move to Frederick.

Pressing his advantage, Marth unleashed another flurry of attacks. Falchion countered every one, but now it was Chrom who was being forced back one step at a time.

"Who taught you how to fight like that?" he gritted through his teeth. Calling up as much strength as he dared, Chrom met Marth's blade and shoved him back to give himself some room to breathe.

"My father!" Marth cried, the words warped by pain and bitterness. Even so, Marth rallied at the sound and threw himself at Chrom with renewed vigor—

—And was brought up short by a blast of pure energy that scorched the stones between them.

"Remember your orders," Chrom called, his eyes on Marth. Not that it mattered. He feel Robin's glare well enough without having to see it.

Marth paled beneath his mask and gaped at Chrom as though he'd seen a ghost.

No.

Not at Chrom.

He followed the line of Marth's gaze over to Robin. Her face was lined with pain, but she stood upright, panting lightly and clutching her side. What was left of her tome had turned to ash in her hand.

The expression on her face, however, promised things were far from over. Slowly, she raised one hand to unbuckle the nearest metal plate.

At least she was taking her orders seriously.

For now.

Until she ran out of things to throw.

Chrom darted forward, catching Marth's blade with Falchion, while hooking Marth's foot with his own.

Marth cried out as his sword was ripped from his fingers, then again as he fell backward.

"Do you yield?" Chrom demanded, Falchion's point gleaming at the fallen man's throat.

"Y-yes," Marth gasped.

Odd. Even in defeat, there was an air of triumph about him.

Chrom nodded in response before sheathing Falchion. He turned on his heel to catch Robin before she injured herself any further.

The roar of the onlookers would have drowned out anything he had to say, so he contented himself with resting his hand on her shoulder.

They had done it.

Against all odds, they had secured an alliance and perhaps the fate of Ylisse itself.

Robin caught his eye, grimaced. _Promise kept_.

Chrom shook his head. Her promise hadn't kept her from getting hurt, but her plan had tipped things in their favor.

 _Promise kept_ , he agreed. _We couldn't have done this without you_.

_A fact I am going to exploit when we negotiate healer services._

He raised a brow. His order had been more than clear. _I wasn't aware they were up for negotiation_.

Despite her pain, she smirked up at him. _Your mistake_.

Chrom snorted. When he'd organized the Shepherds, he'd sworn to himself that he wouldn't ever pull rank if he could help it. The only person who could ever outrank him was his sister, and Emmeryn was as ready to join the Shepherds as he was to turn into a flower at court.

Even though Robin had been with them for less than a season, she was already trying his resolve in that regard.

Repeatedly.

He moved to reply, but they were suddenly surrounded on all sides by the Shepherds. Everyone was laughing and shouting, and overall adding to the din as they swelled around them.

Chrom tucked Robin into his side to prevent her injury from being exacerbated any further, and went still when she slipped her arm beneath his cape and around his waist to steady herself.

The warmth he'd felt earlier from her touch pulsed through him.

Slow.

Steady.

And strong.

For a beat between this breath and the next, the world sharpened into a precise kind of clarity that only ever happened when he and Falchion moved as one in defense of Ylisse.

Colors shone brighter.

Lines were crisply delineated.

And everything was possible.

Robin, it seemed, had won Falchion's approval.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the traits I'm most grateful to Intelligent Systems for giving Robin is her ability to think outside the box and a complete willingness to embrace the crazy so long as the result meets her objectives.
> 
> I knew going into this chapter that she was going to do something unusual, (the use of the term "hare-brained" was my own, but Chrom fervently agreed) but no idea what.
> 
> This was further complicated because the section that answered the "what" was in Chrom's point of view. (He and Robin kept arguing as to who should be narrating the second section, which is not something that usually happens to me . . . Ever. I was close to making them flip a coin, when Chrom mentioned the 'death by a thousand papercuts' line. Sorry, Robin. He won this time, and we both know it.)
> 
> I'm glad I went with Chrom, because I didn't actually finish this chapter until I'd proofread what I had. Chrom has learned Robin's signs, but I never expected him to use them himself. Until he did. O.o
> 
> And Robin winning Falchion's approval?! I have no idea what that means, just a lingering suspicion that it's something big that will affect a lot of other things. *glares darkly at what was supposed to be only a semi-sentient object* *to Chrom*
> 
> Thanks again to each one of you. For stopping by. For commenting. For spending time in this story world. It's a better place, and much further along than it would be otherwise, because of you. See you in two weeks!


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

Robin stared slack-jawed at the bright red monstrosity that had apparently been waiting for her since before the battle in the arena.

_How_ , she demanded, _did you find time to go shopping?_

The merchant had taken advantage of Lissa's youthful enthusiasm and Sumia's agreeable personality, but the real criminal here was the dressmaker.

"Red is one of the East-Khan's colors," Sumia said in that sing-song way of hers that she used to calm dangerous animals. Like Dewdrop, or whatever Sumia had named that infernal pegasus she'd adopted. "We thought it fitting."

It didn't matter how many times they tried to explain themselves, their logic was lost entirely so far as Robin was concerned.

_What if we had lost?_

"Eh, between you and Chrom, there was no way we would have lost," Lissa sniffed, waving a dismissive hand.

Robin choked on the words she'd never be able to say out loud. While Lissa's faith in their abilities was touching, she and Chrom weren't exactly infallible.

And Marth—

Sumia put a comforting hand on Robin's arm. "We have faith in you and the Captain. In all of us."

"Yeah." Lissa grinned as she stroked the feathers lining the hem and the bodice of what was to be Robin's gown. "Since we couldn't be out there fighting for Ylisse, we wanted to do something to thank those that were."

Darn it. Robin hadn't been able to outright reject their gift in the beginning, and now she couldn't reject it at all. At some point, her nightmares were going to come in that exact shade of scarlet.

She could tell.

_Please tell me you picked something for Chrom_.

Lissa's grin widened. "We got something for everyone."

"Red for those who fought, and silver for the rest of us."

Was she imagining things, or did Sumia actually look a little wistful?

"Anyhow," Lissa straightened and clapped her hands, "since my room's the biggest, we're all getting dressed in there. So c'mon."

With a sigh of surrender, Robin allowed herself to be herded into Lissa's room. She even allowed herself to be stuffed into the gown, feeling very much like some exotic bird of paradise that had flown into the side of a tree beak first.

She drew the line, however, at leaving her coat behind.

"But no one will be able to see your dress," Lissa argued, managing to stretch out each syllable past its breaking point.

Unmoved, Robin carefully brought her hood up and over the equally bright and feathered headdress they'd strategically kept hidden until after she'd gotten dressed.

Because who didn't love a surprise?

Miriel, resplendent in her crimson mage robes, adjusted her spectacles and blinked owlishly at Robin.

"While Feroxi customs might vary from Ylissean standards, it is common to all cultures that the guests refrain from dressing in such a manner so as to divert attention from either the hosts or the guests of honor."

"What?" Lissa put her hands on her hips.

"It means you're not supposed to outshine the people throwing the party," Sully said as she strapped her armor over the relatively tame dress she'd been gifted with. More tunic than gown, it had two slits running up the side of it to allow for unfettered movement and to show off the flame-colored leggings underneath.

It was an unmistakable fact, Robin noted peevishly, that she was the only one wearing feathers.

"Oh." Lissa's expression fell.

"Don't worry," Sumia said, giving her a hug. "I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities to wear our gowns once we return to Ylisse."

Ha! Not if Robin could help it. Things got lost all the time. Especially when traveling. Purely on accident. Completely. Spontaneous forest fires were a thing.

"That's right!" Lissa perked back up and grinned at Robin. "There's a couple of celebrations coming up right after we get back. Promise you won't wear your coat then?"

The likelihood of her being a host, let alone a guest of honor, was so small that Robin had no qualms over agreeing if that's what it took to make Lissa happy. Especially now that Miriel had given her an out.

"Right. Let's get to the party so we can get to the grub," Sully said as she buckled the final piece of her armor in place.

Miriel pushed her spectacles up, quill in one hand, a book in the other, and an inkhorn tied to her belt. "I am quite looking forward to studying various Feroxi traditions and culture. Being as this is a celebratory feast, I am certain there will be much to observe."

Lissa and Sumia finished lacing up their gowns that pooled like moonlight at their feet. And, with a few deft movements, Sumia plaited a string of flowers into their hair.

Robin's fingers twitched the entire time, counting down the seconds until she could retire to a quiet corner and pretend she was back in her alcove in Ylisstol. A blessed place where conversation was relegated to ink and parchment and feathers were for writing, not wearing.

When—at long last—everyone was ready, they were surprised to find the rest of the Shepherds waiting for them inside the corridor outside Lissa's door.

Chrom, Virion, and Stahl looked dignified and noble in their burgundy tunics, and someone—likely Frederick—had managed to scrounge up an official looking circlet of gold that sat flush above Chrom's brow. Frederick looked a bit like a dyspeptic, although regal, ghost. And Vaike, finally wearing a full suit of clothes, looked like he could have been Feroxi by birth.

"Finally," Vaike said as he looked them over. "We're all about to die of starvation out here."

In solidarity, Stahl put a hand to his stomach with a tragic air.

"We thought it best to enter the hall together," Chrom said as he came to stand by Robin. "Strength in numbers and as envoys sent by the Exalt herself."

At least she thought it was Chrom. She'd pulled her hood down far enough that the only thing she could see were the tips of his boots.

"We shall be the envy of the court for having the honor of escorting ladies of such beauty to the feast." Virion was already in fine form, and while Robin couldn't actually see him, from the sound of his voice, his flourishes had flourishes.

Lissa and Sumia giggled while Miriel hypothesized whether or not something as subjective as beauty could be scientifically determined and set to an objective scale.

"What's this?" Chrom murmured. He leaned toward her and, before she could raise her hands to counter his movement, he'd lifted her hood and flipped it back.

They stared at each other for a long moment, his eyes wide and astonished. Robin stood, rooted in place, her own gaze caught and tangled in his. In between one breath and the next, Chrom's eyes softened and Robin entertained the idea that this mess of butterflies and dragons trapped in her chest was what it felt like to look beautiful through someone else's eyes.

"Isn't it pretty, Chrom?" Lissa asked, hands clasped behind her as she leaned back on her heels. "It was a one-of-a-kind design. An Anna original."

And just like that, the dragons all devoured the butterflies, leaving Robin uncertain and agitated. With a glower in the general direction of everybody, she slipped her hood over her headdress and pulled it down until it covered most of her face.

"Is that so, Lis?"

Even muffled as it was through her hood, Robin could hear the unmistakable amusement in Chrom's voice, and she was grateful the blush burning itself across her cheeks was well hidden.

The more troubling question, however, was why she was blushing in the first place. The Feroxi would hardly care what she was wearing so long as she could fight, and it wasn't like the Shepherds cared overmuch for fashion—especially with the promise of food in the near future.

"Robin, can you even see anything under there?" Chrom asked. He seemed to lean closer, but she stepped back and half turned away.

_Well enough_. She moved to cross her arms, before settling for tucking her hands into the cuffs of her coat. Lissa had seen to her injuries, but her ribs were still a little tender.

She shifted her weight, every moment twisting and irritating her insides, until she felt nearly as ill-tempered as a feral pegasus.

"Perhaps we should make our way to the great hall, Milord." Frederick's suggestion was met favorably, with a few of them outright cheering for supper.

Grumbling silently to herself, Robin shuffled into the general direction the others had gathered. That jittery feeling that was all pins and needles under her skin intensified. She was on the verge of bowing out completely when Frederick performed some outlandish maneuver that ended with her resting her arm lightly on his.

"Protocol demands we enter by rank," he explained when she tipped her head back to glare at him. "As we are serving as envoys of Her Grace, Milord and Milady must lead the way."

Robin sighed. That didn't explain why she was second in line with Frederick. Of the Shepherds, most were titled, and Vaike was the only unlanded among them.

"You showed discretion in battle," Frederick murmured as they walked down the corridor.

Robin frowned. There was just enough surprise in his voice to ruffle her feathers, and she was already well on her way to irritable.

Feathers indeed!

"It is important to remember not to get ahead of oneself," he continued. "Alliances are rarely forged by one decisive battle, but rather a thousand smaller ones."

Robin rubbed her temple with her free hand. As much as she appreciated the history lesson, the urge to flee was sprouting wings.

They slowed to a stop before the great oaken doors that led to the great hall. Frederick stepped close enough that she considered backing away before he managed to catch her eye.

"The arena was naught but the first battle. The second round commences once we step through those doors." He nodded over to the heralds who had announced their entry.

Robin stiffened. She'd tipped her head just enough to make out Chrom and Lissa's forms. Chrom had turned his head toward Lissa, returning her smirk with a quiet smile of his own. His hair gleamed a star-filled blue where the light from the candles caught and teased the strands.

Yet between one breath and the next, another image from her memory superimposed itself over Chrom's.

Her lips formed the name of the champion they had fought. The one who had torn her from one world and nearly abandoned her in another. And who, by Chrom and Lissa's accounts, had sprung from the sky in time to aide them.

Why did he, though of a more slender build, move like Chrom? And his sword. Something about it had knocked Chrom off kilter.

The final leg of their battle played itself before her eyes. They had moved as one, as though they had fought a thousand times before. Chrom taking the lead, while his smaller reflection followed.

The image faded before her astonishment, taking much of her ill-temper with it.

"Robin, are you well?" Frederick murmured, his tone indicating that this wasn't the first time he'd asked. Or the second.

She turned to him, her gaze still drawn toward the riddle she'd found at the heart of a puzzle.

Marth's fate, it seemed, had been twined with their own. To what end, she could only guess—

She shook her head to clear her thoughts, belatedly remembering that Frederick had asked her a question. Calling a smile to her frozen lips, she nodded and then looked ahead. Now that she knew what had been bothering her, she could set it aside until she could devote the time and attention it deserved later that night.

For now, she would focus on the present.

Robin hadn't known what to expect when it came to the Feroxi victory feast. Going off of the little she knew, she figured it would be loud, informal, and lively.

She was not disappointed.

Tables had been set up along the walls of the Great Hall, each end connecting with another table, until it seemed to be one continuous length lining the perimeter.

The tables had each then been piled high with enough food to feed three armies. The aromas mixed and swirled together into a mouthwatering blend.

But it was the center of the hall that drew her attention. A number of Feroxi had joined hands and formed a large circle in the center of the hall. A few pipers set off to the side kept time as their music skirled through the air.

"Ah, so you've arrived at last!" Flavia greeted them. "Welcome!"

"Welcome, indeed." The man standing beside her was tall and imposing. His single eye narrowed as he studied them each in turn. "Although it is by your hand that I no longer retain the sword."

Chrom swept into a credible bow. "I am afraid I do not have the honor—"

"Ignore the grumblings of an old man." Flavia clapped the man on the back. "This is Basilio, former Sword who has now taken his rightful place as the Shield of Ferox."

"I . . . see."

Robin could almost see the confusion in Chrom's expression. They really ought to have allowed Frederick to lead the way. He probably had any number of properly starched replies.

"But more important, you have your alliance, Prince Chrom."

Robin nearly stumbled as Frederick reversed his hold on her arm, pulling her down into a bow. She turned her glower toward him, but she'd pulled her hood too low for it to be seen.

"You have not only mine, but all of Ylisse's gratitude." The sincerity in Chrom's tone made Robin smile in spite of herself. Emmeryn had picked wisely when she'd chosen Chrom to head the delegation.

"Which is why we feast tonight! Don't be shy. Join in whenever you are ready. As for me, I shall reacquaint myself with the head of the table!" Flavia chuckled as she strode off toward a large chair that was in that awkward stage between being too grand to be a simple stool, yet plain enough that it couldn't be mistaken for a throne.

Basilio grunted his acknowledgement. "Be that as it may, on behalf of the West and as the Shield of Ferox, I've got a present for you. Thanks to you, I've no longer the the right to send even a company, let alone a battalion, of warriors. But what he lacks in number, he more than makes up for in skill."

Basilio gestured, and a shadow seemed to peel itself from the wall.

"Oh, wow!" Lissa gasped.

Robin snickered into her hood while Frederick stiffened beside her.

"This is my previous champion. Long has he served me, and well. Lon'qu."

A short, though desperate battle, between Robin's dignity and her curiosity ensued. In the end, her curiosity won out, and she pulled her hood back just enough to see what had captured Lissa's admiration.

A tall man with messy hair and a death glare eyed their group, his lips pressed into a single, disapproving line. He balanced lightly on his feet, as though he might be called upon to fight or flee at a moment's notice.

"He's peerless with a sword. That Marth could best him at all is a puzzle I have yet to solve."

"What do you know of Marth?" Chrom asked.

Basilio shrugged. "He's gutsy enough to challenge the best, and his confidence is not without merit. He kept to himself and fled the moment the challenge was over."

"Aww." Lissa made a face. "I wanted to see him again. Although . . ." She glanced at Lon'qu a few beats longer than strictly polite, her cheeks coloring prettily as she hid a giggle behind her hand.

Chrom, following his little sister's line of sight, went still before frowning in Lon'qu's direction. Frederick's stance had also changed. If anyone had asked Robin earlier if Frederick's posture could get any stiffer, she would have replied that there wasn't enough starch for that in three kingdoms.

_Interesting . . ._

Lon'qu, however, was unmoved by Chrom and Frederick's scrutiny. Instead, he stared at Lissa with unconcealed horror as she stepped toward him.

"Hello. I'm Lissa, Princess of Ylisse." She curtseyed prettily, apparently oblivious to the man's discomfort. "Pleased to meet you."

Lon'qu made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, looking for all the world like a cornered beast. It was incredible, really, how far he could lean back without falling over.

Basilio laughed and slapped Lon'qu on the back. "Take no offense. Women folk tend to unnerve him a bit, is all. I'm sure he'll get used to you in time, now that he is your man."

Chrom blinked. "Are you certain about that?"

"Wouldn't have said so if I wasn't." Basilio's expression turned serious. "We've dealt plenty with both the Plegians and the Risen. If you had come to me, I would have granted the alliance. It is never a bad thing to have friends when fighting a two distinct enemies."

Chrom bowed before turning to Lon'qu. "Are you all right with this? Do you have any objections?"

Lon'qu managed to find a happy balance between standing in place and fleeing. "He gives the orders. I stab people. I think our roles are clear."

Robin lowered her gaze and half turned away from Frederick to hide her laugh. Maybe Kellam could teach him a thing or two about moving unseen—

_Kellam!_

Robin jerked her head up as she searched their party. Surely they hadn't left him behind . . .

After a few panicked moments, she thought she could just make out his frame standing against the wall. He was looking toward the dancers, and wore a silver tunic that might have been Frederick's twin—five or six sizes previous.

She let out the breath she'd been holding as her muscles untensed. He hadn't been forgotten entirely, then.

Properly chastened, she made a mental note to keep track of everyone under her command. Which was, well, everyone. A few of them might outrank her, but at the end of the day, she was the one telling them what to do.

Robin smiled at the thought. Had she been bossy in that far away life she'd forgotten?

In that unguarded moment, she turned back toward Frederick to ask how long she'd have to wait before she could properly make her escape.

Only, instead of the gleam of fatherly disapproval, she found herself drowning in the depths of the purest blue.

* * *

"You've done many things since becoming a Shepherd, Robin, but I have yet to see you dance." Chrom smiled at her and then gestured toward the center of the hall. "What do you say?"

If he had dared, Chrom might have laughed at her expression. She'd gone from lightly amused to deathly pale in less time than it had taken him to ask the question.

He raised a brow when she didn't move. "Well?"

Her brows snapped together and she shook her head. _You're going to have to keep waiting._

"Why is that?" A reckless kind of bravery held his heart together behind those three words.

She gave him a look that was too polite to ask if he'd lost his wits, but not polite enough to have demurred the question altogether.

_Frederick's lessons covered just about everything but dancing_. She glanced around as if only just noticing that the rest of the Shepherds had claimed their seats at one of the tables.

"The dance they're doing doesn't look too complicated, and I happen to have graduated from Frederick's School of Dance." He neatly caught her arm while indecision warred across her face. "You have nothing to fear."

He edged them closer to the center of the hall while Robin pressed her lips together to steel herself for what was coming.

_Is that . . . really a . . . thing?_ A light blush dusted itself across her cheeks, but she held her gaze steady.

Chrom grinned at her. "Do you really want to know the answer to that?"

She glared at him, but by then they'd reached the circle, and the dancers had broken apart long enough to haul them both in.

Robin's glare deepened, and he could almost see the mountain of words she wanted to skewer him with, but with one hand in the stranger's next to her, and the other safely in his own, she had to satisfy herself with a glower worthy of Frederick himself.

For the first time in what seemed like a very long time, all the things that had been iron weights balanced atop his shoulders grew light.

Plegia and the Risen would still need to be dealt with, but right then the world had narrowed down to music, and laughter, and a chocolate-eyed glare.

Despite Robin's protests, she had only stumbled over the steps initially. And, if his eyes hadn't betrayed him, the little smile tucked into the corner of her mouth indicated that she might actually be enjoying herself.

Well and good.

Robin was far too prone to forgetting herself in all the paperwork and planning that went along with her title. It would do her good to step outside all that responsibility once in a while. To truly live for a time in order to remember what it was she fought for when she became mired in rules and protocol and reports.

For a moment, Chrom allowed himself to relax in a world where everything was sharp and crisp and possible. Falchion fairly hummed with power, rousing his blood to see both what was and what could be.

It was strange that they'd met by chance, and yet Robin now stood at the center of everything

Chrom shook his head to clear his mind. He was going to have to speak to Emm about all that had transpired. A day ago, he would have felt confident that he knew Falchion nearly as well as himself.

But now?

From the time of her forging, to be recognized by Falchion was to wield her. This had been true all through history until a few hours ago.

Yet rather than feeling lost, it was as though he'd been granted new strength. His footing was certain. His steps sure.

Chrom blinked as something darkly purple flashed before his eyes. He looked down at the bright scarlet staining Robin's cheeks, and hoped his dreams would be exactly that color.

_Chrom_ , she yanked her hand from his, _you're staring_.

He opened his mouth to deny it, when Falchion pulsed with a sudden power.

_Without knowing quite how he got there, he held Robin firmly in his arms. She fit perfectly, as though they'd been shaped for one another, and she smelled faintly of peaches and a summer storm._

_She tipped her head back, laughter in every line and shadow of her face. Time seemed to freeze as a feeling bigger than all of Ylisse crammed itself into his chest. The love, duty, and fierce protectiveness he felt for Ylisse were feathers on the wind compared to what he felt when he looked down at her._

_An answering laugh came not from Robin, but a blue-haired child tugging on the cuff of his sleeve._

_The child's left eye was obscured, but the trust in her expression, the openness of her features, expanded the feeling in his chest until he thought his heart would break trying to contain it all._

The power binding Falchion's blade pulsed once more, burning everything away into a golden light so pure, it had gone white as snow.

As Chrom came back to himself, he found he had forgotten how to breathe. Sound and color slowly filtered in until he found himself standing in the center of the Feroxi great hall.

And someone was tugging on his sleeve.

He turned toward the movement, the wonder of the vision still swirling through his mind. She'd had his coloring, but Robin's chin and dainty figure.

Robin frowned as he blinked at her, then huffed a sigh. He bent toward her just as she pivoted on her heel, clamped her hands around his arm, and dragged him toward one of the tables, leaving his face to skim empty air.

Disappointment brought him around sharply, quickly followed by a blind sort of panic that made his heart pound.

_What had he been thinking?_

Robin continued to pull him with determined steps, so she must not have noticed. Chrom's gaze flitted about the hall, but everyone seemed intent on their plates or one of the many loud conversations booming through the hall. Perhaps he was overthinking this. Maybe no one had noticed after all.

Then his gaze met Frederick's.

Frederick didn't say anything. He didn't have to. He just looked at him, and Chrom could almost feel the sigh Frederick was too disciplined to release.

It didn't help any that Robin led him up to an empty spot nearly straight across from Frederick.

_Eat something_. Robin gave him a severe look before stepping away from the table.

"Wait." He caught her arm. "What about you?"

She fixed him with a glare reminiscent of the one earlier, only this one lacked any real heat behind it.

_I came. I even danced_. She leaned over and stole something from the plate Frederick had readied for him. _And I've eaten. Now I'm going to retire to my room_.

The look she gave him dared him to object. When he wished her a good night, she nodded before turning and slipping away through the crowd.

Cheeks burning, Chrom kept his attention fixed on the plate before him.

It wasn't shame that made him avoid Frederick's silent questions or that kept him from glancing at the hilt that was so pointedly pressing into his side.

It was . . . Well, he didn't rightly know exactly what it was, other than something so new and raw that he wanted to hold it close and protect it until it sprouted feathers or fur or whatever it was going to grow up to be.

Not only would he need to speak with Emm, but he'd probably have to search the royal archives himself. He had been so certain that Falchion had shown him all of her faces. And yet, in the last day alone, she had changed all of the shapes he thought he knew.

With a sigh, he finally met Falchion's gaze.

To his surprise, she looked very much like any other sword—save for the air of waiting that coated her so thickly that he didn't have to touch her to know what she was thinking.

She had shown him what was and what could be.

He allowed himself one glance into the direction Robin had disappeared in before he turned around and joined in the laughter of the Shepherds surrounding him.

Now it was up to him to either stay his hand or act.

So be it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being late on this-more about that later. :)
> 
> Robin and Chrom were both being twerps this chapter. -_- Robin was, well, really mad for the first part of her section. It took me a while to figure out why—and that was only after I'd figured out that she was silently fuming. Marth's identity and actions were the problems easiest for her to put a name to. The other issue isn't something she's even conscious of at the moment. Also, Robin apparently retaliates by fighting feathers with feathers. *tries not to think of all the imagery that relates back to feathers* By the time I reached the 'her urge to flee had sprouted wings,' I realized she was doing this on purpose.
> 
> It was only icing on the cake that her gown was an Anna original. :p
> 
> And Chrom, bless his heart, found a way to mirror a lot of things from Robin's section. And if Robin's section was hard to get started, his section was hard to get finished. He's still basking in the newness of his discovery, and could have gone on at length over each and every one of Robin's virtues. (Plus, he's not going to be able to eat chocolate any time soon without blushing a little. Heh.) If Chrom had had his way, there would have been a kiss. I pulled the author card to over rule him, because, well, a spooked Robin is a non-coversant Robin, and I need her to talk to me so I can tell the story. So this time it's a near miss. :D
> 
> The wild card here was Falchion. Up until a few chapters ago, I had no plans for Falchion being anything other than a weapon that is Super Effective against dragon-kind everywhere. Ha. So apparently she's a lot more sentient than I gave her credit for. Also, Chrom isn't the only one Falchion spoke to. He just doesn't know it yet. Da-da-dum.
> 
> Heh.
> 
> Apologies again about this being late. The lupus has been kicking my behind over the last couple of weeks, and I didn't want to risk starting a new flare up by pushing to meet the Friday deadline. Having read a number of fics I really enjoyed that are not yet finished and haven't updated in a long while, I didn't want you guys worrying about the story. For the most part, I will remain consistent with updates until FRACTURED is finished. Every so often, though, I will be a little late. At those times, it will be because my immune system has either turned into The Little Immune System that Could(n't) or it's gone full on Terminator. (Also, sorry I haven’t responded to comments yet. I will be getting to them once my brain is a little—lot—less cloudy.)
> 
> Thanks so much for all of your support-even if it's just stopping by to read every other week or so. You guys are awesome and the reason this story has progressed as far as it has. Thank you!


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

The chilled air of the courtyard was a welcome relief after the crowded warmth of the great hall. It had the added benefit of giving her some distance from—

Robin folded her hands into her sleeves and stared down the budding skeleton of a tree as if daring it to change shape.

She drew in a few deep breaths of the frigid air, hoping to dispell the quiet panic settling deep inside her bones. Nothing had changed, and nothing was different. From the short time she'd been acquainted with herself, she had come to expect that any time she and magic came in contact with each other, things were going to get interesting.

This time was no different.

The memory of the great hall flickered before her eyes, heating her cheeks and making it impossible to keep still. Frowning, she paced just beyond the reach of the tree's shadow.

An imagination was a good thing. It let you breathe. Create. Learn. Grow. Engineer elaborate schemes for getting revenge against a certain pigtailed princess and her army of frogs.

But it could also get you in trouble. And hers seemed determined to get her into as much trouble as possible.

The image in her mind's eye warmed her as if she'd been cold all along without realizing it. She wanted to wrap herself up in her daydream, to understand every thread of it. Worst of all, a part of her wanted it to be real.

The absurdity of such a notion shook Robin from its spell, crumbling the memory away. She reached out and pressed her hand against the rough bark of the tree. Every bump, every sharp and prickly angle—these were real.

Comforting.

Safe.

She bit her bottom lip as she pressed her hand harder against the trunk. _Safe_. That's what it really came down to. Who knows what might have become of her if Chrom hadn't come along. For someone who had nothing, not even memories beyond a month or so, she had somehow found a family.

A purpose.

A place.

Whims of the heart were just that—whims.

Impermanent and changeable.

Lost as easily as they'd been found.

So why was it so hard to let go?

The kindness in his eyes. The love. Every breath that had been stolen away in the face of such pure devotion. And the small boy with Chrom's coloring and her knack for teasing answers from riddles and finding the center to every labyrinth.

Except this one.

Robin clenched her hands into fists and set her jaw. She closed her eyes against everything. Why was rejecting some silly daydream like tearing away parts of her soul? This was a place where even she couldn't ignore the odds stacked against her. There would be no slipping through some long forgotten loophole. No sneaking past when no one was looking.

It was better to keep what she had than to risk losing everything completely.

It hurt right now—oh, how it hurt!—but with time and determination the pain would likely fade. If only he hadn't looked at—no.

She could do this.

She _would_ do this.

Starting now.

Her breath hitched when she opened her eyes. As the world slowly filtered back through her senses, Robin stopped breathing when she realized she wasn't alone.

Or, more acurately, when it became apparent that at some point unknown to her she'd lost it. As silly as it seemed, the dark fire charring away her heart was grief, and grief could do strange things to people.

Like make them see things that weren't there.

Robin glared at the image her grief had dredged up, the quiet embers of her temper warming up. Her spirit wasn't so weak as to demand the very thing she couldn't have to the point of seeing things! It was bad enough that she couldn't talk. It would be immeasurably worse if she were unable to talk to something that didn't even exist in the first place.

Her hallucination was fairly polite, she supposed, as far as these things went. It watched her, waiting, until she met its gaze. Her intent had been to stare it down into oblivion—which had been going pretty well until it reached toward her and brushed its fingers against her cheeks.

"You're crying." Chrom—no, not Chrom, she reminded herself—murmured. He wasn't here. He couldn't be here.

He would know that.

As for the sensation she'd felt against her cheek, well, there was a light breeze blowing. It was that and nothing more.

She shook her head. He wasn't there. This . . . This Chrom standing there so ernestly wasn't real. He couldn't be.

"Robin, are you hurt? Did something happen?"

Her eyes widened as he gripped her shoulders.

A person couldn't dream up the weight of another person's hands, the pressure of every finger, could they? Or the warmth looming only an arm's length away? There was nothing about Regna Ferox that was either warm or gentle.

Robin's heartbeat throbbed in her temples, building pressure behind her eyes, as she stared back at the one person she had no right to look at.

"Robin, can you answer me? Do you need a healer? Lissa?"

Over the sound of her heart cracking, a steady panic was growing shrill. He was real, or real enough, and if she didn't answer him, she was going to end up trussed up somewhere at the mercy of whatever healers were available.

_I almost died_.

The words had fallen from her fingers before she'd realized they were even there. She couldn't take them back even if she wanted to, and they were hardly a lie, even if they weren't completely the truth.

Chrom's eyes widened. "What? When? How?"

Robin mentally kicked herself. Instead of soothing his fears, she'd managed to set them ablaze. But here was her thread, and she would use it.

_During the battle. When I caught the spells_.

In retrospect, what she had done had been blindingly stupid. It had worked all right, but what if it hadn't? She'd given a lot of thought to what Frederick had told her, and had finally figured out what he'd meant. Even Lissa had told her so. The Shepherds were Chrom's family by extension, and it would hurt him if any of them were lost.

Even her.

Chrom let out a breath. "I think you just scared ten years of my life away." He gave her a shaky smile and dropped his hands heavily to his sides.

_I'm sorry_.

Her fingers trembled with the memory of lightning and fire racing up her arms and around her neck before tracing their path back down. It had been exhilarating, yes, but at the same time, she could almost see the fragile thread that had been her life.

"But you're all right now?" He peered into her eyes, oddly intense.

_I'm all right now_. Which, technically she was.

Chrom laughed softly as he leaned back against the low stone wall that formed a small courtyard around the tree that had helped anchor her firmly in the here and now. "When I first started fighting for Ylisse, before I'd even organized the Shepherds, it might surprise you to know that I was in the habit of doing rash and foolish things."

Robin couldn't help raising a brow at that. Apparently Chrom was unaware that he had yet to grow out of such habits.

"Frederick was good by anyone's standards, but he became the behemoth he is today in large part because he was responsible for keeping my life and limbs intact." Chrom's gaze wandered toward the moon, his hands resting lightly atop the wall. "In many ways it was simpler back then, although I wouldn't trade today for any number of yesterdays."

Robin fretted with the cuffs of her sleeves. This Chrom, the real Chrom, was too much like the one she'd conjured up in her daydream during the dance.

Perhaps that's why she'd dreamed him up in the first place.

"My point is," Chrom straightened and turned toward her, "that feeling in your gut that's a combination of digesting anything Sully had a hand in cooking and falling all to pieces is normal. As you said," his jaw tightened, "you'd almost died."

Robin frowned and nodded. Coming close enough to death to see the color of its eyes was bound to leave even the most stalwart warrior a little off kilter.

"A wise man once told me that it's better to let those feelings come as they will than to try to twist and contort them into submission."

She moved to say something slightly sarcastic to lighten the air between them when the impact of the truth in her cover story smashed into her with the force of ten dragons.

The roar of Fire and the hiss of Thunder filled her ears as she choked on their acrid stench. Fear turned to ashes, and beneath all that heat was a terrifying coldness.

And after the coldness, nothing.

She didn't know when she first became aware of his arms around her, holding her together better than she could on her own.

Robin only had enough time to register to how nice it felt before a sharp pain ran through her middle and up into her torso. The pain fragmented and echoed through her limbs like forked lightning.

Her vision splintered, and it was only due to Chrom's solid form that she remained upright at all.

"Robin!"

His voice was the last thing she heard before a dark vortex swallowed the world and everything in it.

* * *

A silent cry shattered the calm of the evening.

_Mother!_

Lady Tiki had warned them against meddling over much, and for the most part Lucina had obeyed. They had come to save this world, not to secure a place in it. Only bonds that had been naturally forged could withstand the storm looming on the horizon.

Yet none of that mattered now as Lucina raced toward the sound of her mother's tortured cries. The memories of a dark laugh snapped at her heels as she vaulted over the stone wall of the courtyard her parents had disappeared into earlier.

"Robin!" The panic in her father's voice brought her to a halt.

Spider thin cracks had carved their way through her mother's flesh as though moonlight was breaking through the dull patina of her skin.

Lucina swallowed hard before dropping into a crouch next to her father.

"She doesn't have much time left, but I can help her."

"What's happening to her?"

Her father's eyes never left her mother's face, and Lucina was reminded of all they stood to lose. The future had yet to be won and was far from secure.

"I—I'm—There is no time." Lucina's heart beat in time with the cracks shivering their way across her mother's face. She reached toward them, but brought her hand up short. "I can help her, but you'll have to trust me."

Her father looked at her then, and time froze. Once again she was a little girl, waving a practice sword that was nearly as tall as she was.

"What do you need me to do?" There was no hesitation in him, just the steely resolve she remembered so well.

Lucina nodded to the lone tree in the courtyard. "I need you to step back and trust me."

Her father gently transferred her mother to Lucina's arms. Robin was so light, she could have easily carried her.

"Whatever your reasons, you have risked your own life to aid me and mine. For that, you have earned both my gratitude and my trust." His jaw tightened over the words he didn't say, but Lucina heard them all the same.

Despite the gravity of the situation, she had to hide her smile as she stood. Her father had always been fiercely protective of her mother, just as her mother had been of him.

"I will return tomorrow evening, just after the sun has set."

Her father's eyes widened, but Lucina had already stepped into the moonlight and slipped into the shadow space. With measured, careful steps, she pivoted sideways into the Mirror Realm.

Now that they had crossed over, her mother's voice was no longer bound. Her cries had grown weak enough that Lucina could almost feel each second that brought her mother that much closer to the edge of her existence.

Setting her jaw, Lucina ran along the silver path. Lissa should be somewhere nearby, and the sooner her aunt could help Robin, the better. She should have listened to Lissa's advice the first time, but like everything else, time had been short.

Bits and pieces of shadow tore away from the night, converging upon Lucina in a cloud of butterflies that lent their speed as they pushed her along the path.

"Lissa," Lucina called out. "I need Lissa. Tell her to hurry!"

A few of the butterflies peeled themselves away from the cloud to go off in search of her aunt.

The silver light shining through the cracks in Robin's skin continued to brighten as the fractures widened. But what frightened Lucina the most was that her mother had fallen silent. Robin's eyes were closed and her breathing so light that Lucina had to fight the impulse to slow down long enough to check for a pulse.

_Her mother was still alive. She had to be_.

Those two thoughts circled through Lucina's mind. Formed the rhythm to which she ran.

Everything would be all right, even if she had to hold all the pieces together herself. Forever.

"Robin!"

Lissa's voice broke through her thoughts, allowing Lucina just enough time to skid to a stop before smashing into her aunt.

"I'm not going to say _I told you so_ ," Lissa said as she directed Lucina to lay Robin down in a bank of shadows swirling on the side of the path. "I'm not going to even yell at you—for now. I'm just going to be glad that pig-headed stubbornness runs in our family."

Lucina smiled as she watched the younger version of her aunt carefully examine her mother to prioritize what needed healing most. Her pigtails bounced as her fingers fluttered above the cracks, not quite touching them.

"Will she be all right?" Lucina closed her eyes against the memory of her father standing there alone in the shadow of a tree. He had trusted her with what he cherished most in this world, and she would not fail him.

"Depends." Lissa held out her healing staff, focusing the silver green light over Robin's torso. Once the magic held steady, she rocked back on her heels before looking up at Lucina. "What she needs most is to rest here where she can absorb enough of the world to make her whole again."

Lucina pinched her lips together as she weighed need against necessity. As in her own world, there was never enough time. It was a terrible game of chess where a move or a sacrifice at the wrong moment could topple the king without having to lay a finger upon him.

She never had beaten her mother at chess, and even Morgan—

No. She couldn't think about that. Not now.

"How long will it take?" Lucina asked, opening her eyes and letting out the breath she'd been holding.

Lissa sighed. "How soon does she need to return? I haven't been able to properly keep track of things since they left Ylisse."

"I gave F—Chrom my word that she would be gone for a single day." Lucina grimaced as her aunt's brows snapped together into a scowl that usually meant a great number of people were going to be very sorry, very soon.

"Frog feathers," Lissa muttered, returning her attention to Robin's still form. "If you hadn't gotten her here when you did, there would have been no keeping her together."

Lucina swallowed hard and nodded. They had made it. That was all that mattered.

"I'll do what I can, so long as you promise to return with her for regular infusions."

"You have my word."

Lissa nodded, then rolled her eyes. "Staring at her isn't going to make her get better any faster, so you might as well come out of there."

A flurry of ink dark leaves swept passed them, along with a rueful chuckle. Lucina froze when her father stepped out of the darkness beyond them. "You know me too well, Lis."

Lucina drank in every sight, every sound of her father and aunt. To see them now, as they were, was a gift beyond imagining. They still had the light of hope in their eyes and the bounce in their steps of those who had not yet been worn down and stretched to their breaking point.

And then pushed one step further.

"Marth." Chrom greeted her before he crouched down next to Robin's still form. He reached out a tentative hand toward her face before slipping one of her hands between his own. "How soon until she wakes?"

"When she's good and ready," Lissa said, giving him a pointed look. "And you aren't to be bothering her either. She needs to rest while she can. They aren't able to stay long."

A light blush darkened his cheeks, but he nodded. With a sigh, Chrom transferred Robin's hand to Lissa's. Then he looked up at Lucina, pinning her in place with the intensity of his gaze.

"Why don't we follow the path for a time, Marth, while my sister sees to Robin's injuries."

Lucina nodded as she stood, mentally weighing her options. She hadn't missed the glint of iron in his eye when he'd mentioned her mother's injuries. For a brief moment she was six years old again, covered in flour, and staring at the remains of what had been a very expensive, very ancient decorative urn.

She gripped Falchion's hilt for comfort, then hurriedly dropped her arm when she noticed her father doing the same. Tiki hadn't been too specific about what would constitute a fatal breach in the past, and no one really knew all that much about her mother's . . . less traditional talents.

Oh, her mother had taught her and Morgan how to use their abilities once they manifested their affinity for bright and shiny things, but she had died before she could pass on all that she knew.

In the interest of minimizing the risk of destroying the past, Lucina hadn't told her father or aunt of this world what was going on. It was a bittersweet thing every time she returned to this realm. So close to the family she'd loved and lost, but unable to act. To find comfort in those bonds.

Bonds that hadn't even been formed yet in this world.

"What happened, Marth?" Her father asked, crossing his arms as he came to a halt.

"I don't know exactly." Lucina frowned. Of all the times she'd kept her resolve to observe her family from a distance, it had to have been this time. "From what A—Lissa said, I imagine that it was a combination of remaining in the other realm for too long and pushing herself too hard."

Chrom sighed and shook his head, but he was smiling. "Robin does have a habit of minding everyone's limits but her own."

Lucina wanted to reassure her father that this particular quirk of her mother's would get better with time, but she couldn't find it in her to lie to him—though he wasn't technically her father. Yet even so, this would be something he'd discover for himself soon enough.

"So where do you come into this?" He very pointedly did not look at the sword hanging from her belt.

Lucina drew herself upright. Here, she wasn't a princess and he wasn't her father. She was simply Marth. "I'm afraid I cannot tell you that. There may be a time in the future, but until then, I must ask you to trust me."

She waited while he studied what he could see of her face, hardly daring to breathe.

"I don't suppose you'll tell me how you came into possession of _her_." His gaze flicked toward Falchion for a moment.

"I'm sorry, but I can't."

"I see. Is there anything you can tell me?"

Lucina shook her head, regret, longing, and fear squeezing fire into her chest and turning all her words to ashes.

Her father put a hand on her shoulder and met her gaze. "If the time ever comes when you can, I look forward to hearing your story." He looked like he wanted to say something else, but shifted as though standing on uncertain ground.

"I'll bring her back to you. I've already promised Lissa that I would."

The relief in her father's eyes eased away the rest of the tension from his face. He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "I know that it's more than a little selfish to be glad of her return. There's still so much that needs to be done before we can even think of breathing, and yet . . ." He glanced at her from the corners of his eyes as his blush intensified. "It is nice to be in the same place she is."

Lucina nodded. For reasons they'd never been able to unravel, she, her mother, and Morgan had never had a counterpart in this realm.

"I will return her as soon as I can." She wanted to do more, but she already had her hands full trying to prevent the future without completely obliterating the past.

"I understand." Her father glanced back the way they'd come. "Time stretches and stands still differently here. She should be ready to awaken soon."

Lucina followed half a step behind as he led the way back to where Lissa and her mother were waiting for them. So many things she wanted to say. So many conversations running through her mind.

But she couldn't give voice to any of them.

And while it shamed her, the one thing she wanted above nearly anything else was for her mother and father to hold her as they had when they'd soothed away a nightmare. To be able to lean on them a little while. To rest from all the terror and pain and dark shadows ever nipping at their heels.

To not to have to be alone anymore—even if only for a moment.

Lucina shook the traitorous thought from her head. The others had come with her. They'd all lost and sacrificed as she had. However, due to her position, the mantle of leadership had fallen upon her shoulders. She wanted to ask her father if it would always sit so heavy. If it dogged even his dreams as it did hers.

She pressed her lips together and curled her fingers into her palms. There was no use in lamenting bonds that had been cut short. As the last Exalt of Ylisse, it was her duty to stand when all others would fall. Her duty to protect all those that she could.

Her duty to stand alone if that's what was required.

Just as it was her duty to shoulder all the burdens of her people. To hold all of their hopes in one hand while staving off despair with the other. If that meant swallowing all their fear and hopelessness herself, then so be it.

Robin sat up just as they'd reached her. Her eyes were wide and her fingers danced in the air.

"Silly," Lissa said, smiling and shaking her head. "You don't have to do all that. Here, you can speak. Remember?"

"Are you all right, Robin?" Chrom knelt down beside her, his eyes locked with hers.

"C-Chrom?" Then Robin turned to Lucina, her eyes narrowing a little. "Marth."

Lucina dipped into a shallow bow. The relief that came from seeing her mother whole once more had stolen any words she might have said.

Which was a good thing.

Already Lucina could feel the three worlds in which she walked growing fuzzy around their borders. She must never forget that two of the worlds were not her own—at least not yet. And, if all went well, her own world would never come to pass.

"What happened?" Robin put a hand to her temple as if to still the world around her.

"Nature, that's what happened." Lissa stood and shook out her skirts before smoothing them over the metal frame of her crinoline. "You've been away for far too long. Any longer, and there wouldn't have been any _you_ left to heal. Got that?"

"What?"

Chrom chuckled as he took one of Robin's hands and put an arm around her to help her stand. "What do you remember?"

"I was—it . . ." Unaccountably, her cheeks went pink. Robin glanced at Chrom, then away, her blush intensifying. She cleared her throat. "We won an alliance with the East-Khan. There was a feast to celebrate. And I . . . I went outside to clear my head."

"What happened then?" Chrom asked.

Robin's brow furrowed. "I thought I had dreamed you up, but you turned out to be real."

"Aww!" Lissa clapped her hands with delight as Robin, realizing what she'd just said, slapped both hands over her mouth.

Lucina watched, fascinated. She had never seen her mother at a loss for words before.

"That's a relief," Chrom said, his expression softening. He looked like he was about to say more, but Lissa cut in.

"If you're going to keep your promise, you need to get going."

Lucina blinked. "Er, yes." She gestured toward her mother. "I'll bring you back at a later date, but for now, we need to return to your own world."

Perhaps emboldened by the change in conversation, Robin lowered her hands. "One day you're going to have to show me how everything fits together."

Not trusting her voice, Lucina nodded.

"We'll be waiting," Chrom promised, kissing the back of Robin's hand before he released her.

Lissa waved an admonishing finger at Lucina. "Make sure you come back _before_ she starts to splinter. Or else!"

"You have my word." Lucina turned to her mother. "We are going to have to hurry."

Then, because she really didn't want to test her father's patience, she summoned the butterflies to speed them along their way.

A cloud of ebony wings descended upon them as Robin called out her thanks and farewells. Lucina hooked her arm through her mother's as the feeling of weightlessness swept through her. Travel by butterflies was as close as she ever got to flying.

_Home_ , she silently commanded them. _Take us home_.

The whisper of a thousand wings filled her ears, building steadily until it turned into a howling wind. She gripped her mother's arm a little tighter as the final rush came.

Then all fell silent as the original world asserted itself, parting the cloud of shadows as they stepped out of a puddle of moonlight.

"Robin."

Lucina stepped back as her father jumped to his feet. Her mother turned toward his voice, her cheeks still glowing.

Chrom reached toward Robin, but didn't quite touch her. "Are you all right? When you—"

_I'm fine_. Robin didn't quite meet his gaze. _Really_.

Lucina didn't miss the look her mother had sent her, however. It was the one her mother had used whenever she expected a concise explanation to be forthcoming. Usually right after she, her father, or Morgan had broken something big or important. It was also not unlike the one she used after they'd had to rescue whoever had been unlucky enough to find one of Morgan's forgotten traps.

"She's fine for now," Lucina reassured her father when he glanced at her.

"For now?" He frowned.

"It will be necessary to treat her . . . condition again. It is not a temporary thing."

Her father narrowed his eyes. "What is her condition, exactly?"

"I'm afraid that is something you will have to discover for yourselves." The weight on Lucinia's shoulders grew a little heavier, just as it always did when it came time for her to leave. "I'll return for her in a fortnight."

Then, to ease her heart from a little of the pressure, she stepped back into the shadows and allowed them to blur away her edges.

"Marth, I—" Chrom stepped closer to Robin as he searched for her to no avail. "He's gone."

Her mother put a very light hand on his arm. _He promised to return_.

"That he did." With a swish of white, Chrom removed his cloak and settled it on Robin's shoulders. "You've got to be freezing. Why don't we go inside where it's warm."

Robin nodded as she allowed herself to be led in the direction of light and warmth and family. But just before they followed the curve of the pathway and vanished from sight, she looked over her shoulder.

Lucina froze as her mother's gaze met her own.

Questions and denials clattered against each other, and then her parents were gone.

Lucina took an unsteady step, her edges solidifying with her movements. Her mother couldn't have seen her. Not when she had no idea or understanding of the Mirror Realm. Not yet.

Even so, Lucina vowed to be more cautious in the future. She couldn't afford even one misstep—not with the future to contend with.

She wasn't their daughter. She couldn't be. Not here. And if what Lady Tiki believed would happen if they managed to succeed in preventing her father from dying, she wouldn't be anything at all.

A thought that was equal parts sorrow and relief.

"I wish you could have been here, Morgan," she whispered, allowing herself one last moment of grief before she straightened her spine and rebuilt her armor piece by piece. She couldn't allow the others to see that beneath the crown, she was every bit as human as most of them were.

So she would be what they needed most. If that meant tucking away every part of herself until all that remained was a semblance of a long ago hero, then that would be a small price—and one she'd gladly pay.

Her feet once more steady, Lucina didn't look back as she vanished into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had a lot of surprises for me. In the last chapter, I knew that Chrom wasn't the only one Falchion had talked to. (Not talking talking, of course. Being a sword limits her avenue of communication, which is why she went with visions.) I knew Robin had seen something too and that she was fairly . . . distraught, to put it mildly. She had been out of sorts for much of the last chapter, and at the time I had no idea why. It was right about when she more than half believed that the Chrom in the courtyard was the product of her overactive imagination that I started to get the feeling that all was not well with her.
> 
> Yet she gave no hints as to what.
> 
> It wasn't until everything hit her and she started to fracture (heh) that I realized she had no idea what was happening either.
> 
> Enter Lucina. 0.0
> 
> I had never thought to write a chapter from her perspective, which is probably why she ambushed me from the shadows. (Something tells me Falchion, at least, was in on it. ;p)
> 
> Despite the characters taking the reins (By that, I mean all of them. We were supposed to be entering Ylisstol today with a new Shepherd in tow. >.<), the story and the world snapped into place easily. And more accurately than it would have if Robin and Co. were more passive about how things are going to play out. *confetti*
> 
> I just wanted to thank all of you who read/comment/etc. You guys are awesome and I really appreciate each one of you. Knowing you guys are there gives me impetus to keep going when the lazier aspects of my nature show up in force. The story itself is also better and stronger because I want to make sure I'm giving you the best I have to give. Thank you!


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

Their departure from Regna Ferox had been surprisingly quick and effortless thanks, in large part, to Frederick. How he managed to get everything packed away and organized between the end of the feast and sunrise was a mystery to Chrom. Although it added one more piece of evidence to Chrom's theory that Frederick likely didn't need sleep the same way other mere mortals did.

Khan Flavia had been generous with her pledge of Feroxi reinforcements, all of which should arrive in Ylisstol two fortnights hence. Longfort was nearly visible, which meant they'd arrive at the border soon enough to set up camp. The forest that ran parallel to their path on each side surrounded them with a kind of peaceful quiet that made bandits and Risen seem little more than a terrible dream.

All in all, their mission had been a resounding success. Chrom should have been happy—ecstatically so.

And he was.

For the most part.

His gaze strayed over to Robin who had remained fairly quiet since Marth had returned her last evening.

Robin had drawn her hood low enough to completely conceal her face. With her shoulders hunched up and her hands tucked into her sleeves, she resembled nothing so much as a purple storm cloud trudging across an unforgiving blue sky.

Chrom shook his head to clear it. Whatever had happened had taken a toll on her. She'd been dead on her feet by the time they'd made it indoors, and had barely eaten anything before they'd set off. From the few glimpses he'd caught of her face, the unnatural pallor of her skin was offset by dark smudges that sat like bruises beneath her eyes.

If he hadn't been wary of giving her stubborn streak a purpose, he would have suggested she ride in one of the supply wagons from the start.

"Trouble, Milord?" Frederick asked as he made an annotation in a small book he carried.

"Not really." Then, because he was the captain, Chrom put away his concerns and put on a smile. He nodded at Frederick's book. "What are you doing there?"

Frederick pursed his lips before meeting Chrom's gaze. "While I normally don't approve of gambling, especially while on duty, this bet seems safe enough and should provide a good distraction during our march."

"Really?" Intrigued in spite of himself, Chrom grinned. They had all learned early on to keep their bets out of Frederick's considerable range. "What is it?"

Frederick's expression went flat. "A wager as to who will walk into a tree first. You, because you keep looking back at her. Or her, because she isn't looking at anything at all."

Surprise lodged Chrom's reply in his throat, and he stumbled as he choked on it.

"Frederick, I really don't think that—" Sheepish, he rubbed the back of his neck. Had he really been that obvious? Chrom worked hard to keep their morale up and to note any vulnerabilities that needed addressing. That meant paying attention to all the Shepherds.

Which he did.

He hadn't meant to single Robin out for special consideration. It just so happened that she seemed to be having the most difficult time at the moment. Although if he were being honest with himself, the image of Robin laughing in his arms had become harder to ignore with each step they took toward Ylisse.

And their daughter . . .

Chrom shook his head and forced his thoughts into the here and now. "So how do things look? In that regard?"

Frederick slipped the book into the pouch on his belt. "The odds seem to favor Robin at this time, so I would take special care if I were you, Milord."

It was only because Frederick had practically raised him from the summer he'd turned eight years old that Chrom noticed the shadow of a smile hovering over Frederick's mouth.

"I think I stand a better than fair chance," Chrom said, grinning. "Robin has had far more trouble with trees than anyone I've ever known. Besides, I've yet to walk into a tree in my life, and I don't intend to start now."

"Yes, well . . ." Frederick cleared his throat and glanced rather pointedly in Robin's direction. "Prior to this time, you have remained blissfully free from any and all entanglements. And that against all odds."

Chrom blinked. Entanglements? Robin was hardly some kind of trap devised by an ambitious mother or power scheming father. And it wasn't like she'd foisted herself on him the moment she'd learned of his station. If anything, he'd been the one doing the foisting during their stay in Regna Ferox.

He smiled as he imagined Robin's laugh. Though she made no sound, her face always lit up in such a way as to raise the spirits of everyone nearby.

"We're a ways yet from Ylisstol, so there's no danger of me tripping over any entanglements." Chrom suppressed a shudder. Mothers—it was very nearly always the mothers—had been herding their daughters in his direction with varying degrees of subtlety from the time he'd achieved the last two years of his minority.

There had been a noticeable push once he had attained his age of majority last year. He didn't like to think what would be waiting for him once they returned home.

If Emm hadn't been expecting him to report personally, he might have very well have—

"No entanglements?" Frederick raised a brow before narrowing his eyes. "Just what do you—"

They both jerked toward a shrub on their left as it exploded . . .

. . . Into a boy nearly Lissa's age.

With a pot on his head. Was it some sort of helm?

"Halp! Please, you've gots to help us, milords!" The boy managed to slide to a stop before he skewered himself on the end of Frederick's lance. "Please! I'm beggin' you!"

Chrom put out a hand while signaling Frederick to lower his lance. From the boy's wide-eyed plea, his shaky grasp on what looked to be the center shaft of a scarecrow, and the sunlight glinting off his pot-turned-helm, it was clear the only danger he presented was to himself.

"Slow down. Why don't you tell us what happened."

Before the boy could comply, the forest spit out another person. This time it was a large man with a fur pelt and a wyvern skull strapped to his head.

Suddenly things became clear.

Chrom caught the boy by his arm and pivoted so he stood between the boy and the bandit. Frederick covered him, lance at the ready.

"Oy! There's the wee piggy!" The bandit leered at them before his face clouded in confusion.

"Great." Chrom sighed. So much for having a peaceful march. "Bandits."

The bandit laughed. "What's this? A little lordling come to watch over his chattel?" His laugh was cut short by the sudden proximity of Frederick's lance to his gut.

His eyes widened as he seemed to take everything in for the first time. "Grima's bones! Shepherds!"

Chrom didn't bother to hide his loathing. "That's right. You have a choice here. Run and live or fight and die. Which will it be?"

With a shout, the bandit turned on his heel and crashed back into the forest. Which complicated things. Bandits ran in only one of two directions—back to their camp or toward defenseless villages.

In this case, neither was acceptable. Chrom gave the boy his full attention.

"Quickly, lad. What happened here?"

"Y-yes, Milord. Right away, Milord. Iffin' it so pleases, Your Graciousness—"

"Let's hold off on titles for now. What is your name?"

If possible, that question only served to fluster the boy all the more.

"Donny, Milord. Er, that is to say, Donnel, Your Majestyfulness—" He took a deep breath and seemed to rally. "I live in the village just beyond this stretch of forest, sir. I-I mean, Milord."

A small headache began to pound right behind Chrom's eyes. "I suppose that will do for now. Now tell me what happened."

The change in Donnel's demeanor was instant. He gripped his makeshift lance with both hands, fury darkening his eyes.

"That rotten toothed pig-stink bandit you just ran off attacked us!" Then he grimaced as he belatedly remembered he wasn't alone. "Er, pardon my language, Your Lordiness."

Chrom frowned. "Us?"

"My village, Your Majestyfulness. I was the only one what got away. And then, only barely."

His heart heavy, Chrom could all too easily picture what had happened. He glanced at Robin who, while still using her coat as a shield from the world, was paying careful attention to their conversation. One day shouldn't set them back too far, and while they hadn't come in time to save Donnel's village, they could at least give them a decent burial.

"We've gots to hurry! A'fore I escaped, they was rounding up people to take to their bandit camp, Milord."

Chrom's attention snapped back to the boy. "They're still alive?"

Donnel nodded. He took another shuddering breath, determination in every line of him. "Please, sir! You've gots to save them folks. My ma's one of 'em! She's all I got in this world. Please, Your Royal Highness!"

"This blasted war seems to spawn new evils by the day," Chrom growled. He glanced at Robin. Her hood was still drawn over her face, but she gave him a single, sharp nod.

"All right, Donny. We'll save your ma." He'd have to keep an eye on Robin to make sure she didn't overextend herself. Again. "Can you lead us to her?"

Donny brightened. "Thank you, Milord! Thank you! Just follow me, Your Sirness!"

"A moment, Donny," Chrom said. He gestured to the rest of the convoy. "We need to organize the rescue party. It shouldn't take long."

The boy nodded, clutching his makeshift lance.

"How shall it be, Milord?" Frederick asked, gesturing to their supply wagons. "They cannot traverse through the forest, but to leave them behind would be to invite thieves, bandits, or worse."

"We can't afford _not_ to go." Chrom glared in the direction of the village. He would never understand what could lead one man to prey upon those who were weaker. But whatever it was, thanks to the Feroxi support that would be arriving shortly, they'd finally stand a chance of uprooting it.

"Agreed, Milord."

"Robin, what do you—" He blinked. The place she'd been standing a moment ago was empty.

"There, Milord," Frederick said, his expression carefully blank. He nodded to the side of the road where Robin and Lissa were crouched down while Donny used the sharp end of his stick to scratch something into the dirt.

Robin's hood had slipped back, and it was nice to see her face again, even if she did look three days dead.

He started toward her with the intention of convincing her to act as a support this time around, all the while knowing his mission was futile.

"What have we got here?" he asked instead.

"Donny's drawing a map of his village," Lissa said, springing up to her feet. She gave Chrom a look he had no idea how to interpret, before announcing that she'd let everyone else know what was going on.

Chrom crouched next to Robin, intentionally leaving a small gap between them. She hadn't looked at him yet, and he didn't want to press her into a corner.

So he focused most of his attention on the map. The lines were so sharp and clear that he could almost see the village in his mind's eye.

The layout was simple and common enough. The village square sat central with houses huddled together around it. A few outbuildings dotted the place between the village proper and the fields the villagers farmed.

There was a lightly drawn boundary around the village proper which likely stood for a wall. But if this village was like many of the others Chrom had visited, the wall would be too short and thin to be of much use against the bandits.

A smaller map had been drawn to the southeast of the village. The bandit's camp was surprisingly large and solid.

"That's the old manor there," Donny said, tapping it with his toe. "They all holed up in there not too long ago."

"What's it like?" Chrom frowned. Old or not, the manor was nearly the size of the village proper itself.

"Big," Donny confirmed. "But old, like I said. Most of the roof has fallen in, and some of the walls have crumbled. The stones are still good though."

Other than a few crooked lines, the maps were fairly good considering how quickly it had been sketched and how rudimentary the tools.

"You drew this, Donny?"

The boy ducked his head and toed a clump of grass. "It ain't much, Your Majestful, but it's my home."

A movement in the corner of his eyes caught Chrom's attention. He turned to find Robin eyeing him. When she was sure she had his attention, she repeated what she'd signed.

The warm glow that had been quietly burning in his chest expanded a little more.

"The love you have for your home is clear," he translated.

Donny blushed and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, "Aw, shucks."

"Well," Chrom murmured. Now that he had Robin's attention, he was going to make the most of it. "Do you have enough to make a plan?"

The look she gave him was mildly insulted. _We're dealing with bandits here. Pillage and burn isn't exactly a winning strategy against a superior force._

Chrom hid his smile. He was more than a little relieved to see some of the fire back in her eyes.

"Right." He stood and called all the others to gather round, noting with some amusement the intricate dance Lon'qu performed to maintain a consistent distance between the female Shepherds and himself. One thing was certain—Khan Basilio hadn't overstated his case.

Robin gestured to Sully, Vaike, Miriel, and a glint of light that turned out to be Kellam. _You four guard the convoy and set up camp. We won't be going any further tonight. Also_ , she gave Chrom a pointed look, _in the event we are overpowered, you will be immediately promoted to rescue party. Sully shall take the lead, but give us a good hour or so before following._

 _The rest of you will be going forth to liberate the villagers._ She crouched down next to the map and tapped the easternmost point. _We'll head to the village first on the off chance they haven't been transported yet. If they have, then we'll swoop down and deal with the bandits there. The night should act as a perfect cover. Questions?_

"What sort of formation do you intend to employ?" Lon'qu looked like he regretted asking the question the moment all eyes turned to him. Even so, he crossed his arms and held his ground. It didn't help his composure any that Lissa had appointed herself to translate for him.

Lissa, seemingly oblivious to Lon'qu's discomfort, beamed at Chrom and rocked back on her heels.

Chrom turned to Robin. Everything about Lon'qu indicated that he was more than capable at handling a sword, but they had yet to see him fight at all, let alone under pressure.

Robin pressed her lips together as she studied their newest recruit. Chrom was almost certain her gaze flicked toward him before she glanced away again, her cheeks bright pink.

Chrom sighed. If he'd known the outcome, he never would have pressed her to dance.

Probably.

Although . . .

The future Falchion had shown him was still bright in his memory. And if he had to work a little harder to achieve it, then so be it.

 _Teams of two_. Robin stood, the light of battle in her eyes. _Frederick and Sumia. Stahl and Virion_. She stumbled a little when she took stock of who was left. Her gaze darted to Chrom's and away again as her blush deepened. _Lissa and Lon'qu. Chrom, with me_.

"I—" Lon'qu visibly broke off when Robin swung around toward him. She glowered at him as she approached him, one deliberate step at a time. He swallowed hard. "I will keep the princess safe."

Satisfied that she'd made her point, she signaled for them all to get ready.

As Robin was busy avoiding making eye contact with anyone, Chrom didn't bother to hide his smile. Frederick narrowed his eyes, but only shook his head.

"Er, Your Ladyship. What about me?" Donnel had gravitated over to Lissa, looking every bit as out of place as Lon'qu.

Robin hunched her shoulders a little as she faced Chrom, her eyes fixed determinedly on the space just to the left of him.

"You're to be our guide for now," Chrom translated. "Since we only have a vague idea of how many we're up against, as well as their caliber. We'll need to take stock of the situation before you're assigned a place."

Donny nodded and clutched his weapon. "I'll do my best, no matter what, Your Lordship!"

Chrom laughed softly. The boy had that look in his eye—a little bit nervous, a little bit of awe, and a reservoir of determination and courage to draw upon—that all the Shepherds had before their first battle.

"You'll do fine, Donny."

And he would.

The person Chrom was worried about most was his tactician.

"Robin." He caught her by the shoulder as the group broke up to begin preparations for rescuing the villagers. She stopped, but didn't quite turn around.

Which was probably for the best.

His hands twitched with the memory of holding her in his arms. Her silent laughter and the look of pure joy on her face—

Chrom shook his head. He could daydream later. For now, he needed to focus on the dragon in the room.

"Have I—Have I done something to offend you?" He tried not to grimace. He'd had no idea she hated dancing that much.

Her eyes widened, and he thought a blush dusted her cheeks. She'd ducked her head away too quickly for him to be sure.

She shook her head.

"Well then," he let out the breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding, "has my hair turned green? Do I smell of bear? Has my face gone crooked?"

With each outlandish suggestion, Robin shook her head and ducked away a little more.

Which was fine.

Eventually she'd reach a point where she would rotate so far that she would end up facing him anyway. He could be patient. A fate like the one he'd seen was hardly going to be built in a single day.

"Was it the frogs in your bedroll? Because that was all Lissa. I only found out after the fact." Not only after the fact, but _before_ Robin had need to lay out her bedroll. A distinction he hoped she recognized.

Just a little more prodding, and she'll have nearly turned all the way around.

He rested his hand on Falchion and sought inspiration in the lines and planes of her face. In the set of her shoulders and—"Was it the dancing?"

To Chrom's surprise, Robin froze in place. To his relief, she didn't toss any Thunder at him.

With great deliberation, he lifted his hand away from Falchion. The warmth she gave him remained in his fingers, tracing the ghost of a memory from so long ago he'd nearly forgotten it.

Just like he'd forgotten that he and Falchion stood stronger and fought harder when they became one in purpose. Pushing each other beyond their individual boundaries and capabilities.

And there was nothing quite so pointed and direct as the sleek lines of a sword crafted by legend and one of the most powerful forces in the world.

"Robin, I—" Chrom's mind went blank as he sought for some way—any way—to reverse the last few moments.

Robin sighed and finally faced him. Her cheeks glowed with the light of the dying day, but it was the look in her eyes that pushed all of his words from fire into ash.

It was the same look she'd worn in the courtyard. Right before she'd collapsed and Marth had appeared, scattering riddles in his wake.

For a long moment, she didn't move. Didn't speak. Her silence bound him as if the very air about them had turned fragile as glass.

When she smiled, the corners of her lips were sharp and turned in against herself. She didn't quite meet his gaze, but it was close enough that he could see the storm raging behind her eyes.

 _You did nothing, Chrom. I only just remembered you're the prince_. When she moved, she pulled a little of his world away with her. The smile she gave him, a shade too brilliant. _We will be moving out in shortly._

Chrom watched her go, confusion coloring everything else. Was it princes she objected to in general, or his being a prince specifically? And why did it bother her now? She'd learned early on who he was, and everything Robin had said or done indicated that she cared for titles as much as she cared for frogs.

"Careful there, big brother." Lissa grinned at him and tapped her head. "Wouldn't want you to pull a muscle or anything."

"Lissa." He sighed. Moved to rest his hand on Falchion before thinking the better of it. She'd already caused him enough trouble for one day.

"Is everything okay?" Lissa leaned in close enough to scrutinize his expression. "You're not getting sick are you?"

"No, I'm not getting sick." Chrom watched Robin's retreating form. Her movements were short and precise, and not at all how she normally moved. Unfortunately he hadn't had the presence of mind to corner Marth and demand the answers to all the questions he ought to have asked.

"Well then, what are you—oh." Lissa went silent for a moment before she elbowed him in the side. "Don't worry, Chrom. You've got all the back up you're going to need—and then some."

"Lis, I'm sure—Wait. What do you mean, backup?" He tore his gaze away from Robin and focused on the threat closest at hand. "Lissa, you're not—"

She smirked at him. "You don't have to worry about anything. Besides, Emm—" Wide-eyed, Lissa slapped her hands over her mouth.

"Emm what?" he asked, focusing the whole of his attention on his little sister. Lissa meddling was a given, but Emm? She had far more important things to attend to—something she knew better than anyone else.

"Whoa there. I think we've gotten ahead of ourselves." Lissa put a hand on her hip and waved her staff at him. "Don't we have some villagers to rescue?"

"Lissa—"

"Captain," Stahl said as he approached them. "Are you ready? We're just about ready to head out. Oh, and change of plans. Robin changed her mind and thinks we should head for the bandit camp first."

Giving his little sister a look that promised they would finish their discussion later, Chrom nodded. "I'm ready. Let's go."

* * *

A path had been cut through the forest, just wide enough to accommodate a horse or a sulking pegasus. It was illuminated by patches of moonlight that seemed to glimmer against the backdrop of shadows.

Robin shivered despite the air being far warmer than it had been their entire stay in Regna Ferox. A landscape filled with half hidden shapes buried in darkness was a little too much like that strange world Marth had taken her to.

A place where the only light dripped down from the sky, too thin to be moonlight, too thick to be imaginary. A silver path that cut through the night—a night, she suspected, that was without beginning or end.

Then there was the Chrom and Lissa that both were and weren't the Chrom and Lissa she had been acquainted with. There was something more about them, but also something less.

Robin gritted her teeth together, determined to solve the riddle once she concocted a plan good enough to catch an enigma that shunned both conversation and society.

There was something distractingly familiar about Marth—another thing Robin was determined to figure out. Every memory she had of him changed shape the longer she focused on it until she no longer had any idea what she was looking at.

Something that annoyed her to no end.

Reality wasn't supposed to be so malleable. Things were what they were regardless of the angle one observed them. Why if—

A startled cry fluttered silently in Robin's throat as she stumbled. She threw out her arms to catch her balance, and collided with something firm and strong.

Chrom didn't say anything. He just waited until she'd steadied herself before dropping his arm. Glad that the night hid the heat blazing across her cheeks, Robin signed her thanks before pressing on.

He was a prince, she reminded herself. _The_ prince. And he'd likely been betrothed to someone of equal standing long before he'd even known that such a word existed.

And if he wasn't now, he would be soon. Royalty had a duty to ensure a peaceful transfer of power.

And yet the Exalt . . .

"We're just about there," Donnel whispered. Moonlight reflected off his pot as he pointed ahead.

"Do we have any idea what we'll be walking into?"

It took Robin a moment before she recognized Lon'qu's voice.

"Sorry," Donnel said, the misery clear in his voice. "None of us were allowed to come closer 'an this once the bandits set up camp."

Robin frowned. Bandits were strong and aggressive, but they weren't the sharpest of wits. Yet considering that Chrom had allowed one of them to go free, these bandits were a little more well informed than the others they'd come up against. If they weren't complete morons, they would have set up a few sentries at the very least.

Or, smarter yet, they would have disappeared themselves to some other safer hamlet far, far away.

"I can find out," Sumia said, stepping forward. She kept one hand buried in the mane of her her demon with wings. "Pegasus knights are trained to act as air born sentries and scouts."

"Wouldn't you risk being seen?" Lissa asked. She reached up and patted Snowdrop on the side. "She's not exactly inconspicuous."

"There's always a risk," Sumia conceded. "But how many people ever look up—especially at night?"

"You're certain?"

Robin couldn't make out much of Frederick beyond his general shape, but she detected something strange in his voice. A lilt or a shade different from his usual brusque, yet polite, tone.

Sumia nodded. "I can do this."

"Robin?" Chrom murmured.

She startled, not realizing how close they'd been standing to each other. She was a few words into her reply before she realized that most of anything she signed would be obscured by darkness.

The silence that had fallen grew thorns.

She was just a tactician doing her job. That was all.

At least that's what she told herself when she reached out for Chrom's hand.

Sumia would never gain the confidence she needed until she proved herself. And she had the advantage over baby birds in that she already knew how to fly.

 _Let her do it_.

"We'll wait for you here." The surety in Chrom's voice was enough for Sumia to stand a little taller.

"It shouldn't take more than a few minutes, Captain."

Robin smiled as her friend mounted Snowdrop with practiced ease. There was a tense moment when it looked like the trees were too close to allow for flight, but somehow they managed.

"Right." Chrom shifted beside her. "How do we approach the manor?"

Robin positioned herself in a puddle of moonlight that would be bright enough to make her words clear.

_Frederick and Stahl, you'll move in first. Hit them hard and fast. Neutralize any sentries close enough at hand. Sweep back out to catch any attempting to flee. Then ride for the manor again, this time going round to the back of the manor to cut off any retreat from there._

"While it is unlikely that any will be mounted, how would you have us act in the event that there are?"

Robin grinned. Not even the night could dim Frederick's glower. It was nice that so many things were becoming predictable.

 _Engage them, by which I mean prevent them from harming anyone else_.

She turned to Lissa. _You need to stay along the periphery of the combat zone. Heal the wounded as you can, but allow Lon'qu to do his job_.

Lissa giggled before saluting her. Robin started to tell Lissa what Lon'qu's job entailed, trusting her to explain it to him, but changed her mind. This mission was going to be hard enough on him as it was. He'd probably take his orders better from someone he wasn't actively forcing himself not to flee from.

"What else do you need, Robin?" Chrom's face was half in shadow. Even so, she could feel the quiet intensity of his gaze.

 _Lon'qu. His job will be to protect Lissa as she heals the wounded. And if anything should happen, it falls to him to get her back to the others_.

Chrom nodded before passing the orders onto Lon'qu.

"And what of me, fair tactician?" Virion asked, striking a noble pose that was somehow completely visible despite how dark it was.

Robin pressed her hand against her temple. Virion had been so uncharacteristically quiet that she'd nearly forgotten he was there.

 _You've done well at working with the calvary, and I'd like you to continue to hone your skills. Tonight, you need to cover Stahl_.

"So I shall," he said, sweeping into one of his signature bows. "But do you not think I would be better placed were I to defend the beauteous pegasus knight? For what is a pegasus but a horse with wings?"

Both of them jumped in surprise when Frederick's gauntlet clamped down on Virion's shoulder and forcefully turned him toward Stahl. "Your place is this way, I believe."

"Frederick has always been good at keeping order among the ranks," Chrom said, the admiration clear in his voice.

 _If Virion were a knight or a part of the nobility, Frederick's order keeping would be considered assault_. Robin stared after Frederick while she tried to work out whether it was the metal gauntlet that had made his maneuver so effective or the pincer-like grasp he'd maintained a little longer than strictly necessary.

Chrom chuckled softly. "Somehow those objections never seem to come up."

Robin nodded. She could well believe it, and she wondered if the Ylissean nobility was as scared of Frederick's displeasure as the rest of them were.

"So, you've covered everyone's orders but your own. And mine."

Robin froze. She'd been too distracted by Virion to remember to guard her heart. Of course Chrom's future wife would take precedence over all. But perhaps, were Chrom to remain Captain of the Shepherds, she might still be allowed to call him friend.

A word that was both more and less than she hoped for.

 _Our job is to impress upon any of the survivors that the banditing profession comes with high risks and no real rewards_. Robin glared at the memory of the flames lapping up homes and storefronts in Southtown. She could almost taste the ash and hear the hungry voice of the fire.

"Robin." Chrom reached out a hand, hesitated for a moment, and then rested it on her shoulder. "I don't understand half of what's happened over the last few days, but I want you to remember that you aren't alone in this. If you ever need anything at all, you have only to ask."

She nodded. It was a good thing, having friends. They had all, in their own ways, filled the gaps and holes in her life she hadn't been aware had even existed. If only—

"She's back," Lissa called in a loud whisper.

A moment later, Snowdrop and Sumia swooped down to join the Shepherds. They gathered round as Sumia quickly dismounted and delivered her report.

"I only saw one or two bandits who might be acting as lookouts. The rest were in the ruins of the manor fighting over what to do with the villagers."

"So they did make off with them," Stahl said in a low voice.

"How many were there?" Chrom asked as he drew Falchion.

Sumia frowned. "There were about twenty of them, I believe. And more villagers than bandits."

"Were they all right?" Donnel asked. Fear clouded his tone, but he stood as tall as the rest of them.

Sumia smiled at him before glancing nervously at Robin. "From what I could see, no one was seriously injured. Even so, we should probably get going as soon as we can."

Robin shoved the memory of Southtown away as she signaled for the others to ready themselves. If she understood the things Sumia hadn't exactly said, they still had time, but not much of it.

 _Sumia, You'll be partnering with Frederick. Defend him as he shall defend you_. Then, because she had no idea how to say half of what she wanted to, Robin held out an apple she'd found in her pocket to Snowdrop.

The demon pegasus whuffled over the apple before deeming it an acceptable offering.

For now.

"Thank you, Robin." Sumia said. "For believing in me. I know I'm still learning, but I'll do my very best."

Robin waited until Sumia made eye contact. _You already are. Thanks to your scouting, we should be able to minimize casualties and increase the chance of everyone making it out of there alive._

Well, everyone but twenty or so bandits. They weren't the sort to surrender and they never seemed to take losing very well.

They crossed through what little was left of the forest, and emerged from the tree line just below what Robin assumed was the old manor. Donnel hadn't been exaggerating. If anything, he hadn't been forth coming enough. The manor sat like the desiccated remains of some poor creature time had ravaged until only bits of broken bones were left.

The stone foundations were still intact, along with a few of the walls. At least they wouldn't have to worry about the roof caving in on them. The other silver lining was that the state of the manor didn't affect her plans at all.

Robin gave the signal for Frederick, Sumia, Stahl, and Virion to advance. Then she turned to Lissa and Lon'qu. _Don't go beyond the outer walls of the manor if you can help it_.

"We won't," Lissa assured her. She waved a hand at Lon'qu. "Come on."

Lon'qu, looking as though he'd swallowed a hedgehog that had gotten stuck halfway down, glanced at Robin. She gestured to Lissa and nodded.

"What about me, Your Lordshipness?" Donnel asked, his voice barely a whisper as he stared ahead.

"Er," Chrom glanced at Robin, "why don't you stay close to Robin and me."

Donnel blinked at Chrom as though he'd just asked him to sprout feathers so he could fly through the nonexistent roof.

"Beg pardon, Milord, but I can't fight. I ain't never even stuck a pig before."

Robin inched forward as she pulled a Thunder tome from her pocket. They needed to get moving. There had been a few shouts when Frederick and the others found the lookouts, and it looked like they were just about to circle back.

"I'm sorry. I just assumed . . . Why don't you stay here? You should be safe."

Donnel clutched his weapon of dubious origins and stared wide eyed at Chrom. "I wish I was as strong as you lords and ladies. Kick that scum single-handed, I would!"

"Then you should fight and grow stronger."

"But I ain't—"

Chrom rested his hand on Donnel's shoulder and looked him square in the eye.. "No man is born a warrior, Donny. And a farm makes for good training. A sickle isn't that far from a sword, after all. Bandits are a little tougher than wheat, but the principle's the same."

To Robin's surprise, Donnel sniffled and held his weapon close. "All right. As you say, I'm no warrior. But these are my people. I gots to do what I can."

Robin gave them both a tight smile and tugged on Chrom's sleeve. Inspiring speeches were all well and fine, but if they didn't get moving, her plan was going to start to resemble the bandit's camp.

"Right. Donny, stay close."

The boy had time enough to mumble something before Robin and Chrom sprinted toward the front of the manor.

Now that things were moving, all the earlier anxiety and exhaustion had burned away as adrenaline surged through Robin. Shadowing Chrom brought her back to a familiar world where sticking by each other's sides was as natural as breathing.

Here, they weren't prince and . . . whatever she was. They were simply Robin and Chrom, two sides to the same coin.

And Donnel.

Something whizzed past Robin's head, and she ducked reflexively.

"Archer up ahead." Chrom veered to the right, leading them toward the side of the camp where a brittle stone wall was in the process of falling to pieces in slow motion.

Robin narrowed her eyes, searching through the shadows until—Ah! Moonlight gleamed off the tip of his arrow as the archer raised his bow.

Magic crackled in her hand as she lobbed a ball of Thunder at him. She didn't slow as she touched Chrom's arm and nodded her head toward the side entrance. Normally she hated diverging from her plans. History was stuffed full of the dead who had changed course mid-stream.

But they needed to get in place, especially if there were any other archers.

They had only just stepped through what passed as a side entrance before someone shouted. Moonlight gleamed against the blade of an ax as a bandit charged toward them. Falchion whistled through the air as she countered the blow. If Robin had tended toward the fantastical, she would have sworn the sword wore a smug expression as the bandit fell to his knees.

Donnel came up from behind and cracked his weapon over the bandit's head. While it had the desired effect, he was going to have to learn to use the sharp end of his stick at some point.

"I—I did it," Donnel whispered as though mesmerized by the sight of the fallen bandit.

"Very good, Donny," Chrom called. "Keep your guard up."

They dashed through a decrepit doorway and vaulted over half a wall. Two bandits stood, waiting for them. Both were large and wore helms made of wyvern skulls.

Robin stumbled a little, those horrible grinning skulls reminding her of something. Something dark. Something dangerous.

Frozen stone.

The airless dark.

Sweet decay.

She swept her hand out, the Thunder already twining round her fingers as she traced its purpose against the air. Heat flared against her cheeks as the magic sprang toward its intended target, leaving her palm empty and cold.

Chrom moved with precision as he danced out of danger only to dive back into it a moment later. Donnel, for his part, jabbed at the bandit with the grim determination of someone who fully expected to die trying.

Shaking out her hand, Robin kept her tome open as she surveyed the area. Low lying shrubs marred what had once been creamy marble flooring. Weeds and long grass wove through stone, cracking it apart from below. Torches had been affixed to all the remaining sconces, dying the silver moonlight with a reddish-gold glow.

A handful of bandits, their attention likely drawn from all the noise she and Chrom had been making, were running toward them. Most bore axes, though there were a few archers mixed in, and all of them wore those terrible helms.

Fear froze Robin in place, but only until she called up another ball of Thunder. Then it squeezed against her sides, making it hard for her to breathe. The magic snapped at the air, warming it just enough to push the fear back enough for her to release it.

She wasn't helpless this time.

Setting her jaw, Robin squinted into the night. The archers were the real danger here, although the other bandits weren't exactly harmless themselves.

Light arched from her hand to the helm of the closest archer, burning a bright line through the air.

The bandits shouted as they closed the distance between them. Chrom darted in front of her, that sword of his gleaming with starlight, while Donnel positioned himself to the right of her. He bent over a little, his sides heaving as he gulped in the air.

Robin had enough time to send another volley of Thunder toward the remaining archer before the bandits crashed against them, waves breaking against a rocky shore.

Then there was no time to think.

No time to fear.

All that was left was the intricate dance between life and death. Slipping between blade and empty air. Twisting round, seeking out weakness. Taking advantage of the enemies' vulnerabilities.

Ducking.

Dodging.

Reaching out to connect magic with man. Forcing it to turn feral in the space between.

A swirl of white.

Metallic gleam.

Words that bled one into another as sword, light, and spear cut through anything that ventured too close.

It didn't take long for her fingers to become sticky with magic as she hurled Thunder after Thunder. Her hair crackled with it, and that strange scent of burning aether was all she could smell.

"Which way do we go?"

Robin blinked stupidly at Chrom. They stood on the opposite side of the great hall, yet she had no memory of moving. Before them stretched a corridor that turned sharply to both the right and the left. The walls in this area were a little more intact than the ones they'd come across so far.

"There ain't much in that direction," Donnel said, nodding to the left. "Just an old vault."

Chrom furrowed his brow. "You're certain?"

Donnel ducked his head. "We used to come up here on dares. Before the bandits came. There's supposed to be some kind of treasure buried around this part. Never did find it though, Your Graciousness."

Chrom turned to her, an unasked question hanging between them. Robin pursed her lips and nodded. Despite Donnel's map and Sumia's scouting, they were still rushing into this half blind. And worse, she might have been a little reckless with how she'd thrown her magic about. Already she could feel the iron weight of exhaustion pulling at her limbs.

"Right it is then." Chrom led them up the corridor and to the right. Despite his seemingly endless energy when it came to fighting, he must have been tiring too. His sword arm didn't appear to be suffering any, but he ran a little slower than usual.

"Just a little bit more," Donnel chanted under his breath to himself. "Ma and everyone else is going to be safe. Not long now."

Robin wanted to reassure him, but there was no way he could understand what she was saying even if her fingers didn't feel like they'd been used as pincushions. It had to be terrifying being thrust into battle like this. Knowing that every second that went by was one step closer to him losing those he cared for most.

Their footsteps seemed to echo against the ancient stone as they sprinted through another corridor that ended up splitting into three different directions. As they paused to reassess the situation—or, in Robin's case, breathe—they heard shouts and the distinctive sound of metal hitting metal.

"They must be holed up in the old lord's bird chamber." Donnel gripped his makeshift spear hard enough that his knuckles had gone white.

A smile twitched in the corners of Chrom's lips. "The what?"

"That ain't the proper name, of course, Your Lordshipness. But with the roof gone, birds had taken to roosting in that corner of the manor. So we gots to calling it the old lord's bird chamber."

Chrom grinned at Robin. "Fitting that we should end up there."

She narrowed her eyes, and had only just started to tell Chrom exactly how unfunny he was, when the sound of a woman's scream turned Robin's blood to ice.

"This way," Chrom shouted as he ran toward the sounds of battle, Donnel on his heels. Clutching her side, Robin hurried after them.

The edges of her vision were becoming softer. More blurred. And the fire in her chest had worked its way up into her throat. Each step she took jolted dull pain up her leg. The air had unraveled into spidery thin threads. And a fierce pounding thumped in the space behind her eyes.

Robin stretched her hand out as though she could catch the ivory hem that always swirled just out of reach. Sound twisted sideways as the world took on a peculiar slant. Her legs had grown so heavy that she could no longer run.

But she had to.

Had to catch Chrom.

She'd promised.

He couldn't get hurt.

She wouldn't let him.

Fire snarled in her ankle as her foot caught on something heavy.

Her hands swept out to catch the broken stones of the floor rushing toward her.

Magic uncurled in her palm as she traced invisible bonds in her mind.

A confusion of vaguely human shapes interrupted her periphery. Golden light glimmered off the broken blade wrapped in cold fingers.

A light that blurred away sound.

Grew larger and larger.

Opened up.

And swallowed her whole.

Only to spit her out into a mess of sound and color that swirled in chaotic circles all around her.

Old stone.

Hungry fire.

Bright red pools that smelled of iron.

Every sound, every color, latched onto her and pulled her in a hundred different directions at once.

Despair coated the air.

Turned it bitter with cold.

She twisted up and away. Her gaze caught a piercing blue. Tangled in it until she couldn't look away.

Magic dripped from her fingers. Fizzled with the scent of the burning sky.

Gold all around, except for two bright points.

Blue eyes widened. Shouted the name of her mother's favorite bird.

She smiled back, wondering how she could have forgotten.

Then the magic fell from her hands, wrenching her forward as it tugged something loose from her soul.

A cacophony of sound tumbled down from the heavens. Crashed against her as fire scored her arm.

Her side.

A red petaled flower bloomed along her sleeve.

A lily.

Or perhaps a rose.

She blinked in confusion as the world trembled along its edges.

A flash of blue. This one darker.

Butterflies dancing on air as they spilled from the red.

Two promises spoken in a language she could almost understand.

Helpless fury boiled the air.

Turned it solid.

A soft hand pushed her through.

Everything gave way to nothing.

Nothing cracked into silvery veins.

A horrible pressure threatened to smash her flat.

Pulsed in her temples.

Throbbed in her ears.

And then—

Robin bolted upright, gasping for air. Everything hurt. Burned. Her thoughts scattered like startled birds as panic threatened to smother her.

"It's all right, Robin. You're safe now." A familiar voice soothed her burns. Wrapped her in something warm and soft. Pulled her down gently. "I'm here."

"Chrom." The name fell from her lips, spreading ripples through time and space.

Robin blinked at the sound of her own voice. Her eyes widened as she looked into the laughter brightening his eyes.

"W-what happened?" She pushed herself up, her cheeks burning when she realized she'd been leaning against him.

Well, not _him_ him, but close enough that her heart could hardly tell the difference.

"Nobody ever listens to the healer, that's what happened." Lissa brandished her staff, narrowly missing Robin's head.

"Sometimes things just happen," Chrom said, rubbing the back of Robin's hand with his thumb. "We couldn't _not_ try to save the villagers."

"I'm afraid the fault lies with me," Marth said as he stepped out of the trees and into the clearing. "I didn't anticipate this turn of events, and by the time I'd realized the danger, you had already gone."

"How is it like this?" Robin stood, her eyes on the brilliant blue of the sky. "It's almost like we're in the—in my world."

The light was soft and golden, despite there being no observable sun in the sky. Before she could be unduly troubled by this, a soft breeze brushed against her face, bringing with it the smell of honeysuckle and spring.

"Careful." Chrom stood beside her, an arm around her to steady her as the fire in her ankle burned a little brighter. He smiled down at her and she forgot all about the sky. "You've learned to find better doors."

"Doors?" Robin frowned as her memories began to filter back in. "Wait! We were fighting. I have to go! They're—"

"Wrong." This time Lissa didn't miss her head. "If you go back now, there's no promise that you would survive. Now sit down, let my brother whisper sweet everythings in your ear, and let me do my job!"

Robin rubbed her head and glared at Lissa. She couldn't just abandon the Shepherds like this. They wouldn't lose, but they'd be worried when she turned up missing.

"Don't worry," Marth said, his voice grimmer than usual. "They know that I've taken you and that you're safe."

"You're troubled," Chrom said. He gently tugged her down to sit beside him.

Robin blinked. Somehow, in the time between standing and sitting, she'd ended up reclining against Chrom while he leaned back against a tree.

"Shouldn't I be? I promised Emmeryn that I would keep both of you safe, but I can't do that if I'm not even in the same world." She wanted to move. She should move. Not-Exactly-Chrom or not, it would be far too easy to blur the distinction between them. It might not matter here—wherever here was—but it mattered out there.

As if sensing her intentions, he wrapped his arms loosely about her and murmured, "You were troubled before that."

"What? Oh." She swallowed hard. It would sound ridiculous were she to say it out loud. To explain the wall that she'd taken to building one stone at a time around her heart. To acknowledge she had the sort of heart that couldn't remember what it was to feel loved. Wanted. Cherished. To the point that her foolish heart blurred the edges of friendship, mistaking it for something else.

Something she had seen so clearly. Something that had been more real than the sound of the music and all the feet thumping against the rushes as the people of Regna Ferox both traded the balance of power through song and dance and feasting.

"It's nothing."

"I meant what I said, should you need anything. You're safe here, and we've all the time in the world."

"But you're not him. Not exactly. And I—"

"I'm close enough." He leaned forward and rested his chin on her shoulder. "Lissa has never actually rendered anyone unconscious before, but I have a feeling she might give it her best if you don't rest while she heals you. I won't be going anywhere, and you can't risk trying to go anywhere . . ."

Robin sighed as the weight of her determination rested heavily upon her shoulders. "You'll think I'm a terrible person."

He laughed softly in her ear. "I highly doubt that."

She pressed her lips together, weighing each choice. It would be irresponsible for her to speak her troubles aloud, but the thought of sharing the burden, of choosing to walk beside someone instead of insisting on walking alone had enough allure to make her pause.

"You must promise not to tell anyone else," she whispered. The air in her lungs went prickly as a blush heated her face.

"You have my word."

Robin's shoulders slumped, and she pressed her hands against her cheeks. "I—I saw you."

Not-Exactly-Chrom laughed again. "I've seen you too."

"No, I—I saw you. When we were dancing. Only it wasn't you or me, exactly." She furrowed her brow as the words rushed past her lips. "You—me—We were older." She swallowed the guilt and shame she felt. It had unexpectedly sharp corners.

"We had a son."

She sat back and waited for him to say something—anything.

"I'm afraid I'm confused," he said after it became apparent that she'd finished with her confession.

Robin squeezed her eyes shut. "About?"

He shifted so he could turn her around enough to look at her face to face. He brushed his fingers against her cheek until her blush turned to scarlet butterflies.

Scarlet fire-breathing butterflies.

"I don't see how that makes you a terrible person."

"You're a prince. The court probably has a suitable wife already picked out and waiting for you. And even if they didn't—" She dropped her gaze to her hands as her traitorous tears blurred her vision and fell heavily down her face. "I'm worse than a no one, because I could have been someone. Someone else. Before. For all we know, I could have been the sort who did terrible, awful things."

"Like what?"

Robin opened her eyes in surprise. "Unspeakable things."

Not-Exactly-Chrom grinned at her. "Such as?"

"I don't know! And that's kind of the point!"

"So you're worried about the possibility that you're some crazed killer who does horrible, unspeakable things, along with the possibility of me marrying someone the court has kept under lock and key lest she should flee? Is that about right?"

Robin glared at him. It sounded doubly ridiculous when he said it like that. "You have to marry." The thought sat oddly against her heart. A giant thorn dressed in red petals. "And I just—she'll come first. She has to come first. I know that. I just—I just don't want to lose your friendship too."

He raised a brow at her. "That's all you're worried about losing?"

"Yes." She pressed her lips together and dared him to press her any further. This was one point she was determined to be stubborn about.

"Are you sure it's not me who is going to be locked up in a tower whenever they let my betrothed out for good? I'd turn the key in the lock myself, if it came to that."

Robin deepened her glare.

He raised his hands as if in surrender. "What if I made you a promise? That if I'm ever foolish enough to lose you out there, I'll help you find the doorway that leads back here."

"W-what?" The storm of emotion hurling thunder and hail at her heart tilted sideways and knocked her off kilter.

He caught her hand in his. "I'd like to believe that I'm intelligent enough to never do something so foolish. But if I am, I'll bring you back here where there are no terrifying potential wives lying in wait for foolish princes and lovely tacticians." He leaned close enough to whisper in her ear, "There has only ever been one key that fits perfectly against my heart, and I can assure you that it isn't the court who holds it."

For the first time since she had ventured inside this realm, Robin had no words with which to speak.

Not-Exactly-Chrom pulled her back into his arms, pointed to the sky. "Have you ever gone cloud watching before?"

"Cloud watching? To check for rain?"

Robin jumped when Lissa snorted. To her chagrin, she'd forgotten about Lissa and Marth. Both of them were studiously avoiding eye contact, yet she felt quite certain they were both paying close attention to every word she and Not-Exactly-Chrom had spoken.

"Not quite." He laughed, then pointed at a blobby looking cloud. "You find shapes and meanings in the clouds. For instance, that one looks a lot like a frog."

He ducked, pulling Robin with him, when Lissa swatted his shoulder.

To Robin's surprise, mortification turned to laughter. Especially when—to her delight—she caught the right angle and found the frog in the cloud after all.

"Ha! That one looks like a goose."

Not-Exactly-Chrom rested his cheek against hers as he followed her line of vision. "Only if it's got pigtails."

They both laughed as Lissa sputtered with mock indignation, but when Robin noticed Marth doing his best to fade into the background, she held out a hand.

"Why don't you come watch clouds with us?"

Marth froze, and for a long moment, he remained silent. Then, in proper Marth fashion, he shook his head. "I'm afraid I have other matters to attend to. I will return when you are ready to go back to your own world."

Robin frowned at the swirl of red that turned into a cloud of ink-dark butterflies where Marth had vanished. For reasons she couldn't give voice to, she had a feeling that she'd stumbled upon an old hurt he'd wrapped up and stowed away in some secret part of himself.

Then Not-Exactly-Chrom drew her attention back toward the sky—this time it was a turtle juggling teacups—and she allowed her worries and cares to float away for the time being.

There would be plenty of time to fret later. And, as it stood, she wanted to be back at full health before she attempted to corner Marth and demand answers.

For now, she was content to allow Not-Exactly-Chrom's laughter and Lissa's staff to mend her soul broken together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! I never expected Frederick to participate in anything even resembling gambling, and there he is, keeping perfect record of every wager made.
> 
> This chapter came out a little weird at first-well, once we get to the Robin section. I hadn't realized before how her thought patterns change whenever she starts to fracture internally. Everything becomes blurred and her words exist only to describe the images her brain processes into story. Her thoughts themselves fragment until the rest of her starts to follow.
> 
> Poor Chrom. He still doesn't know that Robin saw something too, and thinks she's upset because he pressed her into dancing. At least one of the Chroms has an inkling into what's actually going on. :D
> 
> And yay for Donnel! If I remember correctly, he has some kind of lance-ish type weapon in the game. But I figured there wouldn't be too many actual weapons just lying around, especially since he would have been focused on escaping rather than fighting. Farm boy, meet scarecrow.
> 
> I thought it was interesting that Robin made the distinction between the Chrom of her world and the Chrom in the Mirror Realm, but didn't do that for anyone else. (Side note: not to worry. I haven't mapped out much of the in between, but I know how everything ends. This verging more on fairy tale than straight up fantasy war epic, everyone will find their happy ending.) I think it's that distinction that allows her to let down her guard with this Chrom in a way she can't with her Chrom.
> 
> Yet.
> 
> The whole time I was writing Robin and Not-Exactly-Chrom's conversation, I could feel Lucina doing her best to blend in with the background. On one hand, it's incredibly awkward watching her parents flirt with each other-well, one of them anyway. On the other, this sort of thing, seeing her parents as they were, is something she's starving for. So she doesn't outright leave before Robin unintentionally cracks her heart, but she can't quite bring herself to watch either.
> 
> As for Lissa, it seems she's bound to become a war cleric in both worlds.
> 
> Which makes me wonder what Emmeryn is like in this realm . . .
> 
> Up next: onward to Ylisse! (Crosses fingers that we make it this time.)
> 
> Edit: This is what I get for writing out the author's note day of. >.< A special thanks to all of you who have supported FRACTURED by reading/commenting/sharing/etc. You guys mean the world to me, and FRACTURED is a better, stronger story because of you. :) Thank you!


	27. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

Robin leaned back to look up at the moonlight glinting off the gates. Was it her imagination or was the woman carved upon them watching her?

And was that disapproval in the arch of her brow?

She huddled inside her coat, a block of wood in one hand and her knife in the other, doing her best to forget all those tales of ghosts and ghouls she'd read. At the time, they'd been a welcome diversion from all the meetings she'd had to attend. But she'd been tucked away safe in her little alcove.

Not here.

In the dark.

Alone.

With two giant gates standing between herself and anyone who might offer aid, should those terrible legends happen to slither out from the night.

And hungry.

Marth had brought her back just as the sun had begun to set fire to the sky. The gates had been open then.

"Wait here," he'd said. He'd looked at her, mouth pressed into a thin line, as if to impress the order upon her. Then, in typical Marth-ish fashion, he'd stepped between shadow and light, vanishing. Only a few ink-dark butterflies remained behind as proof he'd been there at all.

Soon enough, they'd disappeared as well.

Then the sun had truly set. Night had fallen. The gates had closed. And all she had left to do was carve her thoughts into the wood. Something she'd done every night for however long it was she'd been in that strange other world. She'd finished Emmeryn's bird, and had a decent collection of fanciful winged creatures of her own.

The blade fell still in her hand. How long had she been gone? Time had stretched and curled in between one moment and the next, each drop a tiny piece of eternity. Even now, her memories of the place had gone soft and dream-like around the edges until they didn't feel like memories at all.

Robin frowned as she brushed the curls of wood from her lap. If Marth had returned her here, did that mean the Shepherds were close at hand? Her heart did an odd little jig as she slipped the knife and carving back into her pocket. For while her time spent with Not-Exactly-Chrom and Lissa felt like a happy dream she'd half remembered upon waking, the little boy with his father's hair and chin was real enough that he could have been running up the path to meet her any second now.

In fact, she could almost hear his laughter echoing among the trees.

Robin stared down the path. All was blackness, with only a few pools of moonlight to break up the emptiness. She shivered and rubbed the back of her hand. Marth hadn't told her how long she was supposed to wait. Surely he didn't mean for her to wait out the night on the wrong side of the gates.

Likely he'd assumed she was of sound mind, and that she'd wait within the gates rather than without. It was a pity she hadn't thought to think about this earlier . . .

Her heart beat a little faster as the night seemed to compress itself all around her. Deepening into a color darker than black. Surely he would not have saved her from the bandits only to leave her here—alone—a tasty morsel discarded by the wayside.

Robin's frown deepened as the back of her hand went all hot and prickly.

A breeze brushed past her, its chilled fingers leaving behind their imprints upon her face. Icy cold dread began to solidify in her gut.

Was it always so quiet? There had to be animals that were awake during the night. And any number of annoyingly loud insects that chirped their legs off once the moon had risen.

Wary now, Robin balanced lightly on the balls of her feet as she tried to pick out any details she could from the fringe of the forest that seemed so much closer now that the light had gone.

But there was nothing.

No light.

No sound.

No movement.

The only thing that most definitely _was_ was the back of her hand felt as though it had been attacked by a colony's worth of bees or—

Her glower vanished as she dropped her gaze to her hand. Or, more particularly, the glowing purple lines of the strange markings on the back of her hand. She'd kept them covered so well that she'd nearly forgotten they were there.

But there they were, glowing brilliantly as if to outshine the stars themselves.

Her dread closed round her heart, squeezing it painfully tight. The last time this had happened—

Robin snapped her head up.

Listening.

There was nothing there.

Nothing to be afraid of.

Nothing—

Too faint to be a whisper, nevertheless she heard the name as clearly as if it had been spoken directly in her ear.

_Grima_.

Time froze just long enough for her to glance back at the gates. They were likely barred and bolted from the other side. They would hold. Not every Ylissean was lucky enough to be tucked safely behind such doors.

She glanced up at the moon again, a silent apology to Marth the only thought she allowed to flutter away. The rest she held tight as a miser. She might be alone, but she wasn't exactly helpless. There were others who could not say the same.

And if she survived this long enough for Chrom to give her that exasperated look he gave her whenever she did something particularly foolish on her own, well then, she could tell him that it was his example, his face shining in her memory that gave her frozen limbs the courage to move.

Her hands shook only slightly as Robin reached into her pocket and pulled out a Thunder tome. Almost new. Hardly been used. It had been Not-Exactly-Chrom's parting gift to her.

"Knowing you, it wouldn't hurt for you to carry as many tomes on your person as you can." He'd smirked at her glare, secure in the knowledge that she couldn't argue his point.

Tucking it under her arm, Robin set her jaw and raced into the forest.

* * *

Lucina hadn't meant to speak to her father again. Not this soon. She had planned to shadow the Shepherds' movement. Stay out of sight while she watched over them, holding tight to Lady Tiki's warning about meddling overmuch in the affairs of the past.

But then a sudden wind had blown through.

It had had an edge of winter in its bite. And it carried with it the sickly sweet scent of decay.

From the way her heart beat rapidly in her chest and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, the Risen that were coming were more than a few.

Thanks to how close they were to home and how relatively uneventful their march had been, only one Shepherd stood guard this night. Sir Frederick had hardly been mortal in all the time she'd known him, but even he would be hard pressed to defend against so many foes.

While she would have been more comfortable sneaking into camp to warn her father, Lucina decided to approach it openly. Sir Frederick was not to be underestimated, and they were short on time.

Thankfully she'd left her mother at the gates where the walls of Ylisstol could keep her safe.

For now.

Tucking her cape about her sword, Lucina made sure her mask was firmly in place before she approached the camp.

It was strange. After a lifetime of being forced to move as silently as possible, now she had to work to make noise so Sir Frederick would be alerted of her presence while she was still beyond the reach of his lance.

"Halt! Who goes there?" he demanded, his lance already in hand.

"I have come to warn you. It is not safe here. A contingent of Risen are headed this way." It was harder than she thought to stand there as if she had absolutely no connection to the man who had been like a second father to her.

"I see." Sir Frederick narrowed his eyes as he considered her. "How close are they?"

Her mouth went dry. "Less than a league away."

He nodded. "Come with me."

To her surprise, they did not immediately go to her father. Instead, they stopped outside of the only tent that still had a lantern burning.

Sir Frederick cleared his throat. "Miriel, I have need of your assistance."

Lucina's chest constricted as the mage joined them. For one heartbreaking moment, it was Laurent she saw, and not his mother.

"How may I be of service?" The mage shook out her sleeves and smoothed her robes.

"Please ensure that every Shepherd is awake and ready for battle while I rouse the captain. Use any means necessary."

Moonlight glinted off Miriel's spectacles, turning the lenses a milky white. "Very well."

Satisfied, Sir Frederick turned on his heel and led the way to their captain's tent. Lucina's heart beat harder with each step. She hadn't forgotten the look in his eyes when she'd had to take her mother away for a second time. From all accounts, he had been a fairly patient man. Rarely ever pressing for information, he had favored waiting until anything to be had was freely given.

Even so, Lucina had a feeling that such patience did not extend to where her mother's well-being was in question. She would have to be very careful from here on out. There was no telling how long her luck would hold. Her mother had already given her that look she wore whenever she'd found a riddle she was determined to solve.

Into as many pieces as necessary.

"Milord, new intelligence has surfaced that requires your immediate attention." Sir Frederick stepped back as her father came out of his tent.

"Marth."

The hope in his eyes was palpable, and she didn't miss his quick glance to see if she had come alone.

"Milord," Sir Frederick spoke in low tones. "A contingent of Risen is fast approaching."

Her father clenched his jaw. "How far out?"

"Less than a league."

"Are there any villages caught in between?"

"No, Milord."

"I suppose it would be too much to hope this is a welcoming party sent to mend relations between us and the Risen."

Sir Frederick allowed himself a wry smile. "So it would seem."

Her father sighed, and for a moment shadow and moonlight made him look older than his nineteen summers.

He glanced at her again. "And Robin?"

"She is safe." A small weight lifted off Lucina's shoulders then. It was a nice thing to deliver good news for a change. "She is waiting for you in the outskirts of Ylisstol."

Her father smiled at that. Between one breath and the next, he wasn't a captain, a prince, or the future Exalt. He was simply a man who had found both his purpose and his heart resting within the same person.

"Well, then. The sooner we deal with this, the sooner we can return home." Her father's smile broadened, and he extended his hand. "Will you join us, Marth?"

Her words turned to fire, but she managed a nod. All those lonely nights, all those terrible days, she had often wondered what it would have been like to fight beside her father. Beside her family.

Lucina blinked back tears. She had never thought to find a reason to be grateful for the Risen.

It did not take long for Sir Frederick to organize the Shepherds. It was amazing, in a way, how different all the parents of her closest friends and confidants looked from their children.

Ylisse had not yet been mired in one war after another. Grima had not risen, and she doubted anyone would recognize more than the name.

In the eyes of their parents was steady determination and bright-eyed faith in their ability to turn back the evil that had begun to infest their land. But shining most brightly in their countenances was the hope that had not yet been beaten out of them.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Until nothing was left but stoic acceptance of their fate and a vow to take as many with them as they could when they passed from this world.

If only she had been able to find the others in time. Then, perhaps, in their parents' eyes, they might have found their own spark of hope for the very first time.

Lucina tightened her grip on Falchion, even as the sword sent a comforting warmth into her hands.

They could do this.

They had to.

"I don't know how you do it, but you're always there when we need you. You have my gratitude, Marth."

Perhaps it was the surrealness of running through the night at her father's side. Or maybe it was the storm of emotion she kept locked deep in her heart. Whatever it was, it loosened her tongue just enough for her to share her dearest kept reason for fighting a war that had already been lost once.

"I intend to do what I can to save this world."

She could feel her father looking at her. Wondering.

"You speak as though you stand outside it. The world, I mean."

Lucina winced. She could already see the disapproval lining Lady Tiki's brow. "My place does not matter. What matters is what is here and now."

"You'll have to pardon me if I disagree. Everyone's place matters—especially those who sacrifice their own lives in the service of those who can not fight on their own."

There wasn't anything Lucina could say that wouldn't give herself away, so she said nothing. Besides, one day there would be a little girl born to her father and mother. A little girl who would know nothing of hopelessness. Of helplessness in the face of unmitigated defeat.

That same little girl _would_ know the security of resting in her father's and her mother's arms. Of building play forts with her little brother that were just that—a safe place to play and slay imaginary dragons together.

What happened to _her_ didn't matter, so long as she could win a bright new world for the little girl who hadn't yet been born.

"In any case, Marth. Should you find yourself at loose ends, I would ask you to consider joining with us. There are worse things than becoming a Shepherd, you know."

Lucina ducked her head, grateful for the cover of night. By the time her voice had returned, the Shepherds had crashed into the first wave of Risen.

Then there was no time to think, much less dream.

Lucina fell into position as the Risen closed the gap. Her muscles had long ago mastered the steps to dancing between life and death.

Rather, she allowed Falchion to lead. The sword was in her glory as she sliced, thrust, and stabbed the animated corpses. Lucina, for her part, parried and lunged. Spinning here. Ducking there. Dodging the rusted swords and axes as the Risen continued their assault.

All the while, she made certain to stay within hailing distance of her father. He was, after all, the king in this terrible game of chess. Should Grima or the Grimleal find a way to topple him, then all would be irrevocably lost.

She could not allow that to happen.

With renewed vigor, she allowed more of herself to meld with Falchion. The Lady's awareness surged through her, making her movements sharper, quicker, more powerful.

No foe would be left standing. Every dead heart would be pierced. Every unholy light snuffed out. Perhaps the only one who hated the Risen as much—or more than—Lucina was Falchion herself.

Though her arms and lungs burned, Lucina felt a tiny spark of hope burst into flame.

They would do this.

They _were_ doing this.

She leaned back as the golden chords of Falchion's deadly song surrounded her. Tied themselves about her. As a protection and a shield and—

The boom of magic was sufficiently large enough to pull Lucina mostly back into herself. The scent of burning aether wove in through the smell of decay and dead things.

Beside her, her father had snapped to attention toward where the magic had originated at the same time she did. They shared mutual looks of horror before sprinting through the field of Risen.

How had she—? Surely she couldn't possibly—

And yet there she was.

The halo of mahogany hair crackling with power.

The purple coat.

A pale hand stretched in defiance toward the heavens.

They were a few yards away when her mother turned to face them. Her eyes widened with recognition and she smiled at them, the white-hot glow of her magic riming her eyes.

Then she speared a Risen with the end of her forked lightning, whipped it around, and buried the point of it in the chest of another.

Without conscious thought, Lucina and her father cleared a large swath of Risen from their path as they fought to reach her mother's side.

"Robin." Her father panted lightly as he buried Falchion into the chest of an approaching Risen, and then kicked the corpse's corpse away. "Tell me you haven't been fighting off the Risen all by yourself."

Her mother didn't say anything. She only ducked her head sheepishly before lashing out with another palmful of Thunder. The Risen who had been rushing toward them burst into flames as it fell. It screamed as the body vanished into a cloud of purple smoke.

Her father grunted as he shoved away and then impaled another Risen. "It had been my impression that you were going somewhere safe to rest."

Lucina grimaced. She hadn't missed the pointed look her father had given her.

What had happened? She'd left her mother at the gates leading into Ylisstol. Had leveraged her anonymity to command her mother to stay there. All with the intent to fulfill a wish a little girl had heard her father whisper as the Shepherds, ragged and exhausted, had returned to Ylisstol.

_It should be me covered in sweat and blood and bruises. You should be here, the first face to welcome us home_.

Her mother had laughed as she jumped into his arms—carefully minding an old injury in his side that had never properly healed. She pulled back only far enough to tell him, _Had I the power, love, I would make you whole. There would be none who could stand against you then. But for now, we'll have to make do as best we can._

That had been the last time she'd seen her mother laugh and her father smile.

No.

Lucina set her jaw and redoubled her efforts. That was not going to happen here. She had walked backwards through Hell to get there. To save the one person upon which everything hung.

The Risen would not stop her.

Grima would not stop her.

Death itself would not stop her.

She had made Morgan a promise. And she intended to keep it.

* * *

The moment the last of the Risen had fallen, Chrom caught hold of Robin's hand. She gaped at him in surprise, but he looked over his shoulder at Marth.

"Tell the others to head back to camp. We'll be along shortly."

Then he turned back, lips pressed together, and led Robin toward a glade filled with moonlight up ahead. He'd had time to think long and hard, but what he had to say, well, it wasn't something he wanted to say in a place that had been filled with the bodies of the dying dead only a little while before.

Robin had ducked her head away, but she allowed him to pull her along. So that was something.

He led her to the center of the glade. Moonlight had frosted everything with silver, and a few fireflies drifted lazily between the trees ringing the clearing.

Chrom faced her then. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure she could hear it, but some things were too important to be left to chance. Why was he suddenly so afraid anyway? It wasn't like she was some terror of a dragon from the tales he'd devoured as a child.

Yet no matter how many times he tried to open his mouth, the words he'd tossed and turned over vanished. Robin had turned her face to his, but she wasn't quite meeting his gaze.

A cold sweat broke out along his hairline, and for one frantic moment Chrom found he'd forgotten how to breathe.

All he could see was her.

Lying there, broken, on the ground.

Her skin so pale there could be no life in it.

Eyes dark and glassy.

The warmth in her ashen expression gone.

An empty place at his side that would never—could never—be filled again.

In a desperate moment, his fingers fumbled as they searched for Falchion's familiar shape.

Warmth radiated into his hand and up into his arm. The iron bands constricting his chest loosened enough that he could breathe again. And Falchion herself cut through the doubt and the fear until all that was left were the words he'd painstakingly cocooned inside his heart.

He leaned toward her and cupped her face in his hand. Her eyes widened, but she was looking at him now.

"I thought you were dying," he whispered. "You looked like you were splintering to pieces. And then, when you somehow beat us to the bandits, I was certain you were going to die and there was nothing I could do to stop it."

Robin's eyes brightened with the tears she refused to let fall. She held completely still as though even the slightest movement would shatter the moment. His own heart had turned to fire, and he trembled to keep himself in check.

"Please," he said, his voice growing stronger. "Please let us in. Let us help you with whatever it is you're dealing with. We may not understand or be able to protect you as well at first, but we would be there to carry you. _I_ would be there to carry you for however long you needed me to."

Robin hadn't looked away from the moment he'd started speaking. Her expression had softened enough that he could see the wonder shining through. She half raised a hand as if to trace the tenuous links binding them together.

"I know I'm a prince. That you object to me being so. But consider that who I am today is, in large part, due to my place in the halidom." He risked a tiny smile. "And I never would have found you if I'd been busy working the fields or trapped in some building somewhere apprenticing to be a fish monger or a blacksmith. It was _because_ of my duties and responsibilities as Prince of the Halidom that I was where I needed to be to find you."

Chrom took a deep breath. Their fate hung in a fragile balance. Too light a touch, and they would remain spinning in the air indefinitely. To heavy a hand, and all they had built, all they _could_ build, would be crushed in an instant.

But if he didn't say something here, something now, he would explode.

"You are far more . . . important to me than you believe."

Something flashed in her eyes too quickly for him to do anything more than note its passing. But the denial was there in the shadows of her face. He could almost see her lining up all the careful reasons that stood in the space between them.

And yet, if he wasn't completely mistaken, he thought he could see something else there besides Robin's inability to see the worth and the goodness within herself.

"I won't ask you to stop fighting. I won't ask you to give up your bouts of heroics. Those things are as much a part of you as being a prince is of me. What I do ask is that you allow us—allow _me_ —to walk with you, wherever that road may lead."

She dropped her hand and her gaze, but she didn't step away. And as awkward as it was to stand there, especially since he had run out of words, Chrom waited silently. He'd said all he could, and he wasn't going to be the first to walk away.

Robin dipped her hand into her pocket as she always did when she was uncertain or anxious. But rather than pulling out one of those blocks of wood she was forever whittling away at when she thought no one was looking, she held a small scrap of vellum and something silver that glinted with moonlight.

She tugged her hand from his and cocked her head to the side as though listening for something only she could hear.

"What do you have there?" Chrom asked. The atmosphere had gone thick and heavy, and he had no idea what to do to ease it back to where it had been before.

Robin held out the scrap of vellum, a soft smile on her lips. _A word_. Her eyes met his before darting away again. _Every one of the Shepherds has given me at least one word. Well,_ almost _everyone_.

The air had, impossibly, grown thicker. "Perhaps he hasn't found the right word yet." Then, realizing how that might have sounded, Chrom swallowed hard and forced himself to remain in place. "I mean, er, that is to say—He _or_ she. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed."

Moonlight danced in Robin's eyes as her smile widened. _No harm done there. What will he_ or _she do if they never find the correct word, I wonder?_

Chrom rubbed at the back of his neck. It had a scorched kind of feeling that came from sitting too close to the fire. "I—I suppose he _or_ she would keep looking until the right word presented itself."

She gave him a look he couldn't quite interpret, but it made him feel as as though he were both somewhat invincible and had just plunged from the highest window back in Ylisstol.

Tucking the word back into her pocket, she reached into another and brought out a book. Chrom furrowed his brow, confused. This was hardly the time or the place for brushing up on history or tactics, but then he recognized it by the grooves on the cover.

_I was going to see if I could find another tale back when we were in Regna Ferox. But tonight seems like a perfect night for a bit of magic, don't you think?_

Chrom wasn't sure how to respond. On the one hand, the last time she'd done something with that book of hers, she'd gone blue with cold as though she had been freezing from the inside out. On the other hand, her eyes were full of hope and moonlight and something else. Something small and fragile that made him want to protect it at all costs.

"My sisters would never forgive me if you perished from turning into ice."

Her eyes twinkled as she laughed silently. _You can tell them it was all my fault_.

"Somehow I don't think they'd blame me any less." Some of the tension went out of him as he watched her. It was nice to have the wall that had somehow built up between them vanish for a time. For the moment he wasn't a prince and she wasn't his tactician.

They were just Robin and Chrom.

Robin sighed. _I know this is probably reckless, but we've already achieved our task in regard to Regna Ferox._

He blinked at her. What did that have to do with Regna Ferox? "This is important to you?"

She nodded. _Don't ask me why, because I don't know. I just—something about it feels like . . . home. From the place I came from before_.

It was strange to think there had ever been a time when Robin had not been one of them. But if something about that book reminded her of home, then he wanted to see what else it might offer. Chrom sat down and leaned back on his hands. "I'm reserving the right to rescue you at the first sign of frostbite."

Robin gave him a half smile before sitting down next to him. _Fair enough_.

Despite the eagerness in her eyes, she didn't fit the pendant into the grooves on the cover right away. Her fingers twitched as she stared down at the book.

"Robin . . ."

She met his gaze and smiled the way she did when she powered through the delegation meetings and the stacks of paperwork that went along with all of it. _You make this look a lot easier than it is_.

Chrom sat up as he tried to puzzle through her meaning, but she might as well have been speaking Valmese or Plegian, for that matter.

Drawing in a deep breath, she fit the pendant into the grooves.

This time there was no fire, so perhaps there would be no ice. Although sometimes Chrom dreamt of those ice dragons he had seen. There was something beautiful and majestic about them that made him wonder what it would feel like to fly.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then a sudden gust of air whipped over them, wrenching the cover open and flipping through the pages as if too impatient to settle on a single one. Robin bent over the book, protecting it with her body as she struggled to hold it down.

Chrom reached over to help her, when another gust blew crosswise against the first. This one had an edge to it that felt like a blade that was _almost_ sharp enough to cut. He managed to stagger next to Robin, curling around her to put himself between her and the cursed wind as best he could. She huddled against him, her fingers white as she strained to hold the pages flat.

Then a third wind roared all around them, a feral creature with sharp teeth and thick claws. It batted at the other two air currents as it buffeted against them. Chrom had to close his eyes to protect them from the sharp lashings of the wind, and he tightened his grip on Robin.

Forces he didn't really understand had torn her from him before, and he wasn't going to allow it to happen once more. If the magic in the wind was going to claim her for its own, then it was going to have to claim him too.

The third wind seemed to have invigorated the first two, strengthening them until the world turned to a high-pitched howl caged in streaks of gray. Just as Chrom was debating whether he should scoop Robin up and head for the forest, hoping the winds wouldn't be able follow them through the trees, everything came to a sudden stop.

Blinking the grit from his eyes, he took a cautious look around.

The trees and grass were all bent in the directions the winds had been blowing. His own cape had frozen midswirl above them, and the air had turned thick with silence.

Robin stared up at him, eyes wide, her fingers trembling as they strained to keep the book from flying away. The rest of her had gone so completely still that he wasn't sure she was even breathing.

He opened his mouth, but something in her eyes stopped him from suggesting they leave and head back to the relative safety of camp. There was fear in her eyes, yes, but it was the fear of finding herself in a place she didn't recognize. A quiet strength too many overlooked stood firm beneath the fear. Last of all was anticipation, a forgotten wonder that had surprised her by its very existence.

"What do we do now?" he murmured, unsure how long the tenuous calm would last.

She canted her head, a bright light burned gold around her irises.

Chrom shook his head. "If you want to see this through, then I'm coming with you. I trust you, Robin."

She turned back to face the book, angling herself so she could leverage her weight against the pages. Then she moved one of her hands to grip Chrom's forearm. He nodded when she glanced at him again. With a look that was equal parts terrified and exhilarated, she let go of the book completely.

Chrom clamped his hand around her wrist the moment she let go, gritting his teeth as the air seemed to solidify all around them. Just as it had reached a point where he was certain they were going to be crushed, the world was ripped away from beneath them.

A storm of winds exploded out from between the book's pages, tossing them into the sky as lightly as if they'd been nothing more than seeds from a dandelion clock. The winds set them spinning crazily, even as it bellowed up through the space between Robin and himself.

He squeezed his eyes closed as the wild air swirled against them. Strangely, instead of fearing for his life, Chrom felt an answering anticipation and wonder welling up within himself. He wanted to look at Robin then. To see if she had taken to flying or if the fear of falling had frozen her in place.

Hopefully her fear of heights only extended to trees.

The howling of the winds increased in tempo, but there was something odd about the way they sounded. Chrom was no master musician. The only instrument he'd ever touched—under the duress of his proper education—he'd managed to mangle beyond all recognition. What had started the day as a mandolin had ended as a heap of splintered wood and twisted strings not too long after.

Yet beneath the rough breath of the winds, he could almost hear a few scattered notes. As he fought to listen, the notes became the starting place of a melody. One that conjured the image of shifting sands. Golden in sunlight, silvery indigo by moonlight.

A ruined city that had drowned beneath the sand, just as the song was forced to hide on the underside of the wind. Heartbreak balanced on the slender edge of hope. And a yearning, a longing for something he had no name for, pressed against the four corners of his heart until his heart beat with it.

Chrom could almost detect the whole of the song, and was on the verge of finding the meaning when the comforting pressure on his left forearm vanished.

His shout was swallowed by the voice of the wind. He fumbled a bit as the clashing air currents made them spin out of control, and he'd long ago lost track of which way was up and what way was down.

It was only due to the strength of desperation that he managed to find Robin's arm and latch onto it. Not willing to risk losing her, Chrom pulled her in closer to him until he could hold her more securely against himself.

The song began to swell beneath the wind until he could hear it perfectly. As the notes tripped along steadily, the fury went out of the air. Gradually at first, and then with increasing speed. No longer buffeted about, the air went softer still. The ground appeared beneath his feet, firm and steady.

He opened his eyes. Blinked the grit out of them. Then frowned at the vast expanse of . . . nothing stretching out before him no matter the direction he faced.

Robin looked over her shoulder at him, her golden eyes glimmering against the night. It took him a moment to collect himself. To remember where he ended and the dream began. A blush burned his cheeks as he dropped his hands and released her from his hold.

It was then that Chrom realized the music he'd heard hadn't been hidden in the wind. At least in the conventional sense.

However impossible it ought to have been, Robin cradled a harp made of wind against herself. The edges of the harp shifted and changed, as though it was still wild and restless despite being tamed.

She plucked a few strings, and it seemed to Chrom as though all the world went silent, listening to the song she played.

Robin opened her mouth, and a distant part of Chrom's mind recognized that she was singing. But it wasn't words that he heard. It wasn't her voice. Instead the ghostly ensemble of the story shook itself out of the moonlight.

A city appeared before them. The same city he had seen in the song, only it hadn't yet been buried and forgotten. Slender towers of earthy colors stretched up toward the sun, but only a few brushed against the sky. Here the earth flourished, putting on her beauty in buds and leaves and flowers.

Moonlight and wind twisted through the sand once more in perfect time to the song Robin plucked from the harp. This time they formed large and bulky shapes, and it took Chrom a moment to understand what he was seeing.

"Earth dragons," he breathed, taking an involuntary step back. They weren't at all as his younger self had imagined them.

Their scales were all the colors of the earth. Brown. Reddish brown. Moss colored. The dun of the desert sands. And a hundred more variations of the same. They appeared to be chisled from rock, and they had a rolling sort of gait like a large boulder speeding down an incline.

But there was one who was, well not bigger, but he seemed to take up more room just the same. Coppery flecks glinted in the ghostly sunlight, and the proud tilt of his head was visible even from where they stood.

Without warning, the key and the tempo of the song changed. Chords clashed against each other, creating a dissonance that was both beautiful and terrible.

The earth dragons reacted in kind. Striking down those who were closest to them until the night was filled with the songs of the dying. Only the proud one seemed to escape their fate—and only then because he remained not a dragon, but changed into a man.

Slowly, each dissonant chord resolved itself, joining in harmony with the soft lament of the rising melody. Good and bad. Wise and foolish. Young and old. None, save the one, had been spared. And this because of their arrogant pride.

And yet, in the end, they received their final wish.

Dragons, they had been born.

Dragons, they had lived.

And dragons, they had died.

The tune changed once more. Lighter. Happier. As it did, the bodies of the dragons vanished, leaving behind only their bones that carved hills and ridges into what had once been a green, living place.

All now had turned to dust and sand.

Despite all that had happened. All that had come. All that had gone. The earth never forgot the dragons it had forged.

Green became gold.

Broken towers were rebuilt.

Color returned to the city in small patches.

Small patches that spread their tendrils and flourished until the city itself seemed to have stolen its beauty from the sunset.

"Thabes," Robin said, her voice echoing softly. "The city of delight. The city of illusions. The city of the lost."

Chrom raised a brow. It had been a while since he'd last been stuffed in the library and surrounded on all sides by tutors that were nearly as old and dusty as the books themselves. Yet the name of the city teased at his memory. He frowned as he tried to remember. Thabes wasn't in Ylisse . . .

The blood drained out of his face.

Plegia. They had been whisked away to Plegia.

There were any number of people who would kill him upon his and Robin's return. Frederick would likely be the first in a very long line of—

"Pride and arrogance is the stain of this city." The gold in Robin's eyes brightened. "As time passed, the stain grew darker until at last the city became cursed by the darkness. Not long after that, the earth swallowed it to hide its shame."

As Robin spoke, the wind smoothed out the moonlight, taking with it every trace of life. Chrom bowed his head to both the memory of what had happened and the magic. The emptiness of the desert had been magnified now that he'd seen the land as it had been in the past.

The strings of the harp vibrated sweetly as Robin ran her thumbs up and down the strings in a complicated glissando. "What the earth forgot is that burying darkness only gives it space to deepen and grow. Even now the buried city sleeps with its illusions, dreaming of the day when at last it shall wake."

Chrom stared at Robin, and he had a vaguely disquieting feeling that it wasn't just her looking back at him.

"What," he asked, "have we to do with Plegia?"

Between the village militias and Emm's tireless work toward a lasting peace, Chrom had hoped that they would be enough. That both countries would be able to step back and heal as best they could from the ravages of over a decade's worth of war.

There were nights, however, quiet and hidden, when he was not quite so optimistic. War had scarred both nations. It would be foolish to believe that things could go back to how they were. How could they when there were still enough living to count and remember the dead?

Robin nodded toward him. "The blade you hold dear, was once held by your father. She tried to give him the same warning. It was not madness that drove his hand, but fear. Fear is its own kind of darkness, and darkness always recognizes its own. The more it is buried, the larger it grows. Feeding upon its host until the moment when one must choose either to fall to the same curse or to fall back toward the light."

Chrom's mouth had gone dry. He had never expected whatever magic it was that Robin's book had wrought to be so personal. To take the memories of his father and tilt them enough to change the whole shape of the man he had loathed—

No.

Not loathed.

His father, he had loved. It was the Exalt that he hated.

Robin's expression softened. She ran her fingers across the strings a final time, the winds finally strong enough to untangle themselves from each other.

"Faced with the same knowledge, what will you choose, Prince Chrom?"

* * *

The magic fell from her fingertips, leaving behind a great, gaping hole of exhaustion.

Robin slumped, and would have fallen if Chrom had not been there to catch her. She sagged against him, too weary to fret about their proximate distance.

Hadn't he said something about carrying her anyway?

"Robin, are you all right?" He had gone pale as snow and there was something in his eyes, some old hurt, that had become open and raw.

She nodded. It was incredibly annoying to only be able to speak when she went to that other realm or when another used her voice to say whatever it wanted to say. At some point, she was going to have enough energy to really be annoyed. Livid, even.

Her muscles turned to water, and then to lead. And at some point it seemed as though her head was going to fall off, though she really couldn't be sure. But as darkness stole away her consciousness, she could have sworn she saw a small white flower uncurl in the sand at their feet.

Then her head really did fall off, but the vague feeling of floating in a sea of nothing was so comfortable that she found she couldn't mind all that much. It gave her time to think. To process the story her book had told.

The earth dragons had been as majestic as the ice dragons in their own way. Both of their stories ended in tragedy, which was probably par the course for dragons. It was a good thing she wasn't a dragon . . .

"Seriously, Chrom? It took you fifteen whole minutes to walk back to camp and this is how you come? What did you do? Ambush another army of Risen on the way?"

Robin frowned. She knew that voice. It was a bright, cheerful voice totally at odds with the velvety darkness into which she'd fallen.

"Come now, Lis. We don't look that bad."

Robin knew that voice too. The thought of it made her smile.

"Humph. One of you isn't even conscious, or did that escape your notice while you were _carrying_ her back?"

"Lis—I—"

"And you look like you saw a ghost or two among all the dead people. Ugh! I hate the Risen!"

He chuckled softly. "I love you too, Lis."

The darkness pulled away from her as she struggled to wake. Robin blinked a few times, but everything looked bleary. A child's painting that had been smeared nearly beyond all recognition. She put a hand to her head when she sat up in an attempt to stop the world from spinning.

"Oh, good. You're awake." There was iron in Lissa's voice, and when she shoved Robin back down, Robin knew better than to put up a fight. "Now let me look you over, and then it's to bed for you, missy."

Robin blinked up at a Chrom-colored smear. It changed shape, and a warm weight settled on her shoulder.

"Thank you, Robin. When we get home, there's something I would like to ask you."

She nodded, her brow furrowed. It wasn't like Chrom to sound so . . . unsure of himself. Had he seen the same thing she had? Sure, a story that ended with _and they all died horrifically, the end_ wasn't going to lighten the mood, but the something in his eyes and the tone of his voice just now—

"You, sit," Lissa said as she pushed Robin back down.

Robin huffed a sigh. _I was sitting down_.

"Robin! I'm so glad you're back!" Sumia's voice was the only warning she had before the Pegasus Knight's hug turned into a tackle.

The wind had been knocked so thoroughly from Robin's lungs, that she could only lay there gaping like a fish drowning on dry land.

"Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry! I—"

"I told you that you'd make a good apprentice," Lissa said with enough glee that Robin knew she was going to have to check her bedroll, her pack, and anything else large enough to conceal a frog for the foreseeable future.

Sumia blushed a little, but she didn't duck her head. "We were going to discuss this with you if—" Her eyes went wide as she stumbled over her mistake. "—I mean _when_. _When_ you came back."

Robin frowned. Exhausted though she was, there was no way she was going to be able to sleep tonight. She grimaced just thinking of the stack of daily reports she was going to have to wade through. Frederick was nothing, if not thorough.

And relentless.

Thorough and relentless. A deadly combination.

"Oh! That is, I mean, we don't have to."

Robin's frown deepened, and she realized she'd been glowering. Consciously packing her glower away for later, she forced herself to smile. _No, I think that's an excellent idea_.

"Y-you do?"

_Yes, I do_.

"Right." Lissa set her staff down on the ground.

Robin narrowed her eyes as bits and pieces of her environment came into sharp focus. They were in a tent of some sort. And she was—her fingers curled around what felt like metal poles . . .

A cot. She was on a cot in a tent—

Lissa hummed while she fiddled with some sort of kit. Between Robin's wonky vision and the dim light of a single lantern, it was hard to tell what it was.

"As a healer, you'll occasionally run into Special Cases. Most people do what you tell them to without making much of a fuss. As for the Special Cases . . . Robin, drink this and then we'll call it good."

Robin accepted the vial, every sense alert for anything even slightly amphibious. Finding nothing, she brought the vial up to her lips before thrusting it away.

_What is this?_

"Your medicine," Lissa said with a beatific smile.

_It's vile_.

"That's how you know it's going to be super effective. Now drink up."

Robin pulled her glower back out and focused it on the grinning healer. She'd rather spend what was left of the night quietly suffering from whatever _that . . . that abomination_ was supposed to fix.

"I could always get the captain. I doubt he wandered off too far."

"Lissa, are you sure—"

Robin's expression went flat. Chrom had enough on his shoulders, and it was curious that Lissa went straight to him. Chrom would likely help her get rid of it and could run interference if needed. Now Frederick, on the other hand . . .

_A good tactician always has the last laugh, and I'm the best_.

Lissa just smiled a little wider.

Having delivered her declaration of war, Robin downed the contents in the vial, which were every bit as slimy and disgusting as she'd imagined. She was going to need a bucketful of lye to burn the taste off her tongue.

"You should probably get ready to catch her," Lissa said as blithely as if they'd been exchanging small pleasantries.

"Catch her? Is she hurt still?" Sumia's voice went fuzzy and indistinct.

"Nope. But the concoction she just drank has enough sedatives in it to down a horse, and I would know because we tested it on Blazing Thunder."

Robin blinked stupidly at Lissa. As a tactician, she should have anticipated something like this. She . . . should have had . . . a way . . . to . . . counter . . . to . . . count . . . er

"Are you sure she'll be okay?"

A fuzzy kind of darkness began to leech away her vision.

"The funny thing about Special Cases is they are incredibly hard to kill. Mostly they just need to rest up so they can heal. But they're stubborn and hard to pin down. Thanks to Miriel, they're a lot easier to keep in place."

Robin's weight seemed to fall away from her.

Shock.

Frustration.

Grudging respect.

Indignation.

Her thoughts and feelings peeled away from her as she slipped back into the velvety darkness.

* * *

The next day filtered in through the dark. Voices. Laughter. The clank of metal. The clatter of dishes.

Food.

Robin forced her eyes open and scraped herself off her cot. She staggered out of the tent, one arm raised against the merciless sunlight. Her stomach gurgled and twisted cruelly. How long had it been since she—

"Whoa there, Robin! Careful. Almost mistook you for a Risen."

She squinted up at Vaike. What was he—

Food.

She needed food.

Vaike had no food.

Robin took a wobbly step. When neither the ground nor gravity protested, she took another.

The third was her downfall.

"Hey!" Vaike caught her right before she got a face full of dirt.

She gazed dully down at the ground. There was moss in the dirt. And moss was a kind of vegetable, wasn't it? It was green, at least.

Green was good.

"I know my manly good looks have the power to make all the ladies go weak in the knees, but the captain wouldn't be too happy if you started swooning at my feet like this." He gave her a grin that inferred they were in cahoots.

Robin glared at him. There would be no cahoots of any sort until she had something to eat. Preferably not dirt.

But if push came to shove . . .

"Hey there, Vaike. Afternoon, Robin." If Stahl thought there was anything unusual about Vaike holding her under one arm like a sack of potatoes, he gave no indication.

Hmmm . . . Potatoes . . .

"Hey yourself. You ain't seen the captain yet, have you?"

"Just a few seconds at breakfast after Frederick dragged him in. Do you need him for anything in particular?"

"Nah. Just wanted to see if there was time to have a friendly little sparring match before we head on home." To Robin's intestinal distress, Vaike started bobbing and weaving. "Teach has got to keep his edge."

"Tell me about it. Er," Stahl paused as he glanced at her. "Are you okay, Robin? You're looking a little green there."

She couldn't really work up the gumption to be more than mildly annoyed, and even that was a strain. Figuring that, of all the Shepherds, Stahl would be the one most likely to understand, Robin summoned the rest of what energy she had left.

_Food._

_Now._

_Please_.

"They didn't bring you anything?" Stahl raised a brow. "No wonder you look like a Risen."

"Right?" Vaike said "It's like she crawled out of the forest looking for . . . What do Risen eat anyway?"

Stahl rubbed his chin. "Now that you mention it, I actually have no idea. Do they need to eat though? All the ones we've come across have been dead already."

"I dunno. They probably wouldn't want to starve to death though."

"But they're already dead."

"Well, yeah. In principle. But they're kinda alive too, aren't they?"

"Hmmm. It's possible, because the really dead people stay, well, dead. At least I think they do. You know, I don't think I've actually ever been to a funeral."

Gah! It was time to help her fellow Shepherds get their priorities in order.

"Huh. Maybe they—Hey! What'd you just bite me for?"

Robin's stomach heaved even more than it had before. In between gagging, she tried to rub the taste off onto her sleeve. Between Vaike and Lissa's "medicine," her tastebuds were never going to forgive her.

"Ah. Robin. Right. How about I help you get some lunch. I could use a second helping, myself."

She moaned silently as she was transferred from under Vaike's arm to Stahl's.

"Hey." Vaike gave her an odd look. "You don't think . . ."

Stahl opened his mouth, then noticed the expression she was giving him. "Later, Vaike. I'd better get her to the mess tent."

Robin had never noticed before, but Stahl walked with a spring in his step. A terrible, horrible spring. She clapped her hands over her mouth, before remembering there was absolutely nothing in her stomach.

The closer they got to the mess tent, the more her stomach twisted as the scent of eggs and fried potatoes—and was that bear meat she smelled?

"What on earth are you doing?" Miriel stood square in the middle of their path.

"Hey, Miriel. What? Oh, you mean—" He glanced down at Robin.

"Precisely. Is this some sort of experiment to root out the most efficient way of carrying a person who has become incapacitated?"

Robin sagged. They were so close . . .

"Maybe? I, uh, Robin needed help making it to the mess tent."

"I can see that. My query is about your reasoning for carrying her under one arm. While I have no experience in the capacity of dealing with dead weight, I am, however, accustomed to lifting heavy objects. Especially when I am in the process of refining a theory. Books can weigh quite a lot, although they aren't as prone to go limp, which would, I suppose make it more difficult to carry."

Stahl rubbed the back of his head with his free hand. "I don't really carry books around all that much, so I'm afraid I can't be a help to you there. I just, uh, didn't want _anyone_ to misunderstand."

"Misunderstand?"

Stahl shifted slightly. "Yeah."

"It's quite obvious that you are carrying Robin. How does hefting her under one arm, as opposed to the usual method, convey what you wish to project any clearer?"

"I—well, you see . . . I just didn't want _anyone_ to get the wrong idea. That's all."

"Is the value of your "anyone" specific or variable?"

"I—uh—" Stahl glanced down at Robin who glared up at him. Or tried to at least. "Shoot, Miriel. I really don't want to get bitten. Can we continue this conversation after we get her something to eat?"

"Of course." Miriel stepped aside. "I am on my way back to ensure that my things have been properly packed before we commence. I shall make a note of our conversation so that we might continue later on."

"Right."

Robin nearly wept with joy when they entered the mess tent and all those lovely smells of food and lunch and food formed a wall of delightful fried oblivion.

"I'm just going to set you right here, Robin, so I can—"

"Hey! I've been looking for you. The captain—" Sully furrowed her brow. "What in the blazes are you doing?"

Stahl sighed the sigh of a man much put upon. "Robin needs lunch."

"Well, yeah, but she's not a sack of turnips."

"I don't think she can walk on her own at the moment."

"Sure. But wouldn't you—"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"People might get the wrong idea."

"People?" Sully frowned before her eyes widened. "Oh, you mean the ca—"

"Shush. And yes."

To Robin's surprise, Sully started laughing. "Heh. Well once you're done here, _the captain_ would like us to scout the area up ahead."

Stahl nodded. "Sure thing."

"Ha!" Sully shook her head as she held the flap of the tent open. "Make sure your second lunch is something you can eat from horseback."

For a long moment, Stahl just stood there. Then he startled when he looked down. "Robin. Right. Lunch." He set her carefully down on one of the benches. "I'll be right back."

Robin waved him on. Now that she was fairly certain food was on the horizon, she started mentally organizing her tasks. Eat. Help clean up and load everything back onto the wagons. Maybe eat again—if she was lucky—and then she would face the mountain of paper work that was waiting for her to put her name on it.

She could always plan her revenge against Lissa during her breaks.

But, more importantly, they were almost home! A place with real walls, a real floor, and a real roof. Not to mention all the other necessities. Like books. Thinking of her alcove made a warm glow shimmer in the very center of her being.

Stahl brought her a plate heaping with food, and every other thought flew from her mind. Robin managed to sign her thanks before diving into her plate like a starving wyvern.

Once she surfaced from the mess tent, it turned out that the camp had already mostly been packed, so there was little left for her to do but nervously calculate how large a mountain the paperwork was likely to be.

"Hey ho there, Robin!" Lissa twinkled at her.

As if Robin could ever forget the taste of that vile concoction.

"You look a lot better now. I'll bet you feel better too. See what a good night's sleep can do?"

Robin hadn't actually come up with her plan of revenge yet, but Lissa didn't have to know that. Striking up an intimidating pose, she looked the princess in the eye. Then maintained eye contact just a little too long before issuing her warning.

_Your days are numbered_.

Lissa snorted. "I've seen scarier bunnies in the gardens back home."

Robin blinked at her. What was it with bunnies and Lissa and frogs?

"But seriously, I was wondering if I could talk to you about something."

_About?_ Robin narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. There didn't appear to be any frogs in the vicinity, but appearances were often deceiving.

"Yeah." Lissa giggled nervously while she fiddled with her staff. "About the agreement I worked out with Sumia."

_Is she still worried? I told you, it's fine if you train her in healing. Although_ , Robin gave her a considering look, _we ought to put an agreement in place that prohibits dubious practices_.

"Dubious practices?"

_Like covertly sedating your superiors_.

"Oh, that." Lissa laughed again, sounding a little more like herself. "It worked didn't it?"

Robin glared at her. Just thinking about the stuff made her stomach clench.

"I mean you feel better this morning, don't you?"

_Yes_.

"Well, I can tell you that you wouldn't feel half so good if you hadn't slept so soundly. As a tactician, don't you favor quick and efficient means of reaching your goals with the fewest number of casualties?"

Robin's frog sense was starting to tingle. Lissa was looking far too innocent, and the words she used—she normally didn't talk like that. So she just stared at her and waited for the other frog to drop.

"It's my job to help keep people alive, right?"

_Yes_.

"And if some people are too stubborn to get adequate rest?"

_Lissa—_

"Not enough rest means your injuries won't heal as fast and you won't be at your best when we fight all the bandits, brigands, and Risen."

Robin frowned. She couldn't fault Lissa's logic, but that didn't mean she had to like it when it applied to her.

Lissa grinned at her and rocked back on her heels. "The Shepherds are the best warriors in Ylisse, but they're also the most stubborn when it comes to taking care of themselves, you know? So that's my job—to take care of them so they can keep the halidom safe."

_Point taken_. Darn it. She was the tactician. It was her job to outmanuever people, not the other way around!

"I'm glad you agree."

_Maybe see if you can make your medical sludge taste more like healing and less like poisonous bog water_.

"Lissa. Robin. We're just about to head out. You ready?" While Chrom's smile was as brilliant as ever, he was looking more than a little haggard around the eyes.

And she'd taken him out last night to see what other tales her book might reveal. She'd meant to reciprocate. To peel back the layers and open up a bit of her heart just as he had.

Instead she'd been thoughtless.

Robin shifted so he couldn't see her hands as well. _Once we get home, you need to treat the most stubborn member of our party_.

Lissa snorted. "Tied for most stubborn, you mean." Then to her brother, "We're all ready."

Chrom looked like he wanted to say more, but he shook his head. "We should make it home in time for an early supper."

Robin nodded and started to follow him, when Lissa caught her sleeve. The princess waited until her brother had taken his place at the head of the column. A few minutes later, they all moved forward while the wagons followed from behind.

"So, about the agreement between Sumia and me. We only had time to tell you about the first part."

_There's more?_

"Just a pinch."

Was it her imagination or had Lissa's tone taken on a distinct shade of wheedling?

"See, I'm teaching Sumia something, so it's only fair that she teaches me something in return, right?"

Robin frowned as she considered. There was an awful lot of ground "something" could cover. And why was Lissa having this conversation with her instead of her brother. Or Frederick, even?

_And?_

Lissa took a deep breath as if to steady herself before leaning close enough that she wouldn't be overheard. "She's going to give me flying lessons."

Robin's step faltered. Ah, so that was why.

_What did your brother say when you asked him?_

Lissa giggled nervously. "Well, that's the thing. I thought I'd broach this with you first. See how it went over. Then I'd talk to my brother. Or . . . maybe you could."

_Why do you want to learn to fly?_

Lissa blinked at her. "Er, well, if I could fly, I'd be able to reach people faster to heal them." She smiled hopefully and fiddled with the end of her staff.

_Yes, but Sumia could do that from the lessons you're giving her_.

"Two healers are better than one. And there's a bunch of other staffs we could use once we master the healing staff. Like a rescue staff."

Robin's frown deepened. _Flying is dangerous_.

"Well, sure it is. But not any more dangerous than me going out on foot. I really don't have a way to defend myself, but if I was on a pegasus, I could fly away if I needed to."

Time to change tactics. _You're not just a healer, you're the princess_.

"I know. That's why I _have_ to do this."

The quiet intensity in Lissa's voice warned Robin there were dragons in the marsh. Which dragon, though? Robin sorted through all the possible answers, looking for the one that was least likely to prompt the dragon to bite.

_Help me understand_.

"Princesses are supposed to be perfect. Beautiful. Poised. Pretty much everything Emm is. But I can't sew. I can't cook. And I don't like having to recite poetry or histories that are all about things that happened a long time ago."

Robin nodded.

Lissa clasped her staff with both hands. "The one thing I can do is heal."

They walked in silence for a moment, as if they'd fallen into a bubble. As soon as Lissa started talking about princesses, Robin had a good idea which particular dragon they were tiptoeing around.

Still, this was Lissa's dragon. She would do what she could to help, but if Lissa wanted to slay it, she was going to have to wield the sword.

"Being a princess gets in the way of that. I mean—it's not that I'm not grateful to be a princess. I've never had to go to bed hungry, I have a family that loves me, and I get to wear all sorts of beautiful dresses whenever I want."

Shades of melon-colored taffeta intruded into Robin's mind. Shuddering, she shoved the image away. Only to have it replaced by something bright green with a great deal of polka dots.

Lissa set her jaw. "But it also means that everyone's going to try to protect me from everything. Did you know Frederick spent one summer personally bathing every frog on the castle grounds?"

Robin put a hand to her mouth to hide her grin. It wasn't at all hard imagining Frederick with a tub of soapy water, a washboard, and a line of petrified frogs.

"Emm keeps me safe at court. Chrom keeps me safe out here. All of the Shepherds do." Lissa sighed and finally looked over at her. "You do too."

_It's my job to keep everyone safe_.

"Yeah, but do you assign a guard for each Shepherd?"

_I think Frederick assigned himself_. Robin pulled out the bird she'd been whittling and started carving out a pair of bright eyes.

"I just—I just want to matter. I want to do things that matter. Not because I'm a princess. Not because Chrom's my big brother. But because I'm me. Because I'm Lissa."

Robin juggled the bird and her knife long enough to reach into her pocket. She handed Lissa a handkerchief before making light markings for where she wanted a tuft of feathers to be.

Lissa sniffled and mumbled her thanks.

She waited until she'd blocked in a rough outline for the half of the bird that had yet to emerge from the wood before slipping it, and the knife, back into her pocket.

_I can't make any promises_ , Robin warned. _But I'll talk to your brother_.

Lissa clapped her hands together. "Really? You promise?"

Robin nodded. Chrom would likely be amenable to reason. Frederick, on the other hand . . .

They walked in happy silence after that. Each wrapped up in their own thoughts.

Maybe she'd wait to tackle the paperwork until tomorrow.

On the other hand, getting everything done in a timely manner could be the difference between victory and defeat with Frederick.

And how was she going to have her talk with Chrom? Robin was willing to bet he'd be swept away to personally report on all that had happened the second they entered Ylisstol.

That reminded her. He'd said he had something he wanted to ask her once they were home. What could he possibly want to talk about? Was she failing her duty in some way? Or was it about the thing that had happened back with the bandits? Could it really be classed as insubordination if she wasn't doing it on purpose and had no idea how it happened?

She went cold inside. Was it her book? Did Chrom think it was too dangerous to use? It's comforting weight bumped up against her leg as she walked, and she couldn't imagine how it would feel if it wasn't there.

Or maybe he just wanted to make sure she was still combat ready. A girl could dream, right?

It wasn't until Robin had stumbled for the third time that she realized their shadows were stretching out before them and the sky was starting to glow with the sunset.

She rubbed her stomach. Somewhere between lunch and now, it had become all hollowed out. Supper would be waiting for them. Soon, hopefully.

The thought cheered her long enough to reach the summit before the path dipped down into the small valley surrounding Ylisstol.

She stared for a moment down at the gates that twinkled with sunlight while everything else was dyed amber and goldish red.

Home.

The word settled in her heart, all sharp angles that hadn't had time to be filed down yet.

Whoever she was, whoever she would become, this was her place. Her home.

"That's the first time I've seen you smile today," Chrom said as he fell in step beside her.

Robin wrinkled her nose at him. _I smile_.

"Yes, you do."

Now was her chance. If she waited until they made it all the way home, she'd have to get in line with everyone else.

_Chrom, you said you wanted to talk later. Well, I have something I need to ask you too_.

He canted his head to the side and waited.

_Not right now, now! Later. Tonight. Or if that doesn't work—_

"Robin." He caught her hands in his. "Why don't we see how you're doing after we get through all the meetings. At worst, we can talk in the morning. Although, considering this is the court we're talking about, that might be the same thing."

She blinked at him, tugged her hands free. _Me? Meetings? The court? But I thought—_

"You're one of us now. As an officer for the Shepherds, your attendance will matter." The look he gave her was somewhat sympathetic.

Robin narrowed her eyes. There was something he wasn't telling her. She could feel it ripple beneath what he'd just said. Did it have anything to do with what he wanted to talk about later?

More importantly, however, _Please tell me we're allowed to eat first_. She wasn't sure she could face the court on an empty stomach.

Chrom laughed. "I think I could pull a few strings."

_Ha! It's good to be prince—or the friend of the prince_ , she ammended.

"Indeed." He gave her a look she couldn't quite decipher. "You ready to go home?"

The warm glow of being surrounded by books glimmer in her chest again. Home was one of the most beautiful words there was.

Beaming, she nodded.

_Yes_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Lucina. That moment when she and Chrom look at each other because they *know* what set the magic off. Or, more accurately, who. X) Something tells me her luck has just about run out so far as her mother's concerned. With all the horrible things that had happened in her life, it was nice to grant Lucina's wish in being able to fight at her father's side.
> 
> As for Chrom, props to him for not grabbing Robin and heading for the hills. Each story in her book is another puzzle piece to Robin's backstory, and the way they each manifest is going to be different. I'm looking forward to the next one. :D Thabes and Mr. Thanatosphages* is going to play a major, though mostly off screen, part in the plot. I'm really looking forward to the conversation he's going to be having with Robin in the near future.
> 
> Heh. I hadn't meant for this chapter to go on and on. Originally, it was supposed to end 3-4k words ago. But then Lissa gave Robin a sleeping potion, the "song" lasted far longer than a few stanzas, and by the time it got to Vaike figuring that maybe Risen ate people,** I was reminded of why this story has been so much fun to write. Add to that the fact that Chrom and Robin are probably the only two people out of the Shepherds who don't have a clue as to what's going on between them.
> 
> Yay! They finally made it back home! Now we can get on with birthday parties, more training, rescuing Maribelle, and perhaps some promotional posters!
> 
> A special thanks to all of you who read or comment or share the story! I don't know how to put it into words exactly, but this story is different from what it would have been if I had just been writing it for myself. Somewhere between the prologue and now, it has become something deeper and more lovely than it would have otherwise because of all of you. Thank you!
> 
> *Apologies. Too tired to look through my notes, and all my words have pretty much been eaten up by this chapter. So Mr. Thanatosphages it is.
> 
> **Admittedly a possibility. Does anyone actually know what they eat?


	28. Chapter Twenty-Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

Robin grimaced as she flexed her fingers. She'd been at this from the moment she'd woken up, and had hardly made a dent in the landscape of paperwork burying her desk.

And that was just the regular Shepherd side of things.

Frederick kept meticulously detailed records. They'd definitely come in handy later as she worked to make the Shepherds stronger fighting units individually and as a group.

For now though, they were just the cherry on top. The court had—

Robin buried her head in her arms, scarlet shame heating her cheeks. After all her fine intentions the night before, she'd managed to fall asleep somewhere between the time they all rose for the Exalt and the end of the opening remarks from a rather long-winded courtier.

Chrom had mercifully woken her _after_ the chamber had cleared. So when she woke in a puddle of her own drool, only Chrom and Frederick had been there to witness it.

The way he'd grinned at her as he'd plucked a few minor documents stuck to her cheek made her bury her head a little deeper into her arms. His expression hadn't been unkind. In fact, it had been downright understanding.

And for reasons Robin couldn't even begin to fathom, that had made it a hundred times worse.

He'd given her an opportunity to prove herself to the court, and she'd squandered it without thought.

What was wrong with her? She'd faced down bandits, brigands, and Risen, yet she couldn't last five minutes in the face of boredom? Really?

She wasn't representing just herself. She was a Shepherd. An officer even, which meant she had a duty to be better than she would have been otherwise.

Robin sighed. The Exalt had even had a certificate of authenticity waiting on Robin's desk when she'd returned. It bore witness that she had rightfully come by both her title and the land—

Horsefeathers!

Robin bolted upright, horror muting her blush. She was landed! That meant she had certain duties and obligations to those on her little plot of land. Duties and obligations she hadn't even looked into yet—

Was she supposed to visit? It would only be proper for them to meet face to face. Would she need to say anything? Should she send warning of her impending arrival? Bring gifts?

The questions mounted up without mercy until she was all but drowning in them. She was a terrible lady. What's worse was that she couldn't even remember what she was a lady of.

The name of her land had to be on the certificate. Surely it was there.

Robin jumped to her feet and frantically flipped through the mess of documents that was four inches deep and wide enough that any number of carefully cultivated stacks were giving serious thought to jumping off. The certificate had been here. She could distinctly remember looking at it when she could still see the top of her desk.

It had to be here somewhere. Wait. Was that—

"Heya, Robin!"

Robin startled in surprise, and the contents on her desk exploded in a cloud of vellum. Her heart hammered against her chest as she blinked at Lissa through the pages fluttering down in the space between them.

"Whoa. Easy there." The princess walked into her room, stepping carefully over a stack of books Robin had meant to study the night before. "What happened here?"

_Adult responsibilities_. Robin tried not to think about how long it would take to reorganize everything while she picked up the pages. She still needed to sort through the books they'd taken with them to Regna Ferox. There were still a few she hadn't gotten through. And then she had to—

"So, um," Lissa cocked her head to the side and gave her a look of wide-eyed innocence, "are you busy right now?"

Robin carefully put another stack of papers on the pile on her desk before giving her an incredulous look.

_Of course not. I mean, all I have to do—_

"Great!" Lissa grabbed her by the wrist as she dashed out of Robin's room, dragging her with her. "I've been looking for a dummy all morning!"

Robin glared at the back of Lissa's head as she concentrated on not losing her footing. While they had made great strides in communication, the major flaw in the system was that anyone she wanted to talk to had to be looking at her.

Something Lissa had clearly forgotten.

In true Lissa fashion, no matter how fast they rounded corners, sped down corridors, slipped through side passages, and double backed—Robin was certain she'd seen the same potted plant at least three times—they never actually collided with anyone.

Although there had been a few near misses.

Robin's breath felt like fire to her lungs by the time Lissa careened through a pair of ivory colored doors gilded with a profusion of golden flowers.

"Ta da! We're here!"

She collapsed on a cheery yellow sofa the second Lissa dropped her hand.

_Where is_ here _exactly?_

It was obvious they were in a sort of sitting or reception room. It was large enough to feel roomy, but small enough to be cozy. A number of plump chairs and cushions were spaced evenly through the room, curled in a half circle around a pretty little fireplace. The drapes and fabrics were all a mellow buttercream color that made Robin feel as though she'd landed in a warm summer afternoon.

"My room," Lissa said. "But we're not there yet. C'mon."

_I thought you had a room with the rest of us_. Robin forced herself to her feet. The sofa was extremely comfortable, and their impromptu run was starting to catch up with her.

"Yup, I do. But it's not big enough, so we're using my princess rooms."

Oh.

Lissa grabbed her hand and pulled her over to another set of doors exactly like the first. "This shouldn't take too long."

_Good, because I—_

"I've got her," Lissa announced as she threw open the doors. She looked over her shoulder and beamed at Robin.

A flurry of ladies with starched white caps and frilly aprons descended upon Robin with a cheerful, if ruthless, efficiency. Before she knew it, she was standing on some kind of low stool, clad only in her underclothes.

_Lissa, what is the meaning of this?_ she demanded once she got her arms free. She was torn between mapping her escape route and trying to cover herself.

"It's for a thing Emm's doing. Some kind of official function or other."

Robin narrowed her eyes. _How does that require me being here? Like this?_

There was a great deal more she wanted to say, but one of the ladies had caught her arm and was taking measurements while the one on the other side of her was measuring her waist.

Lissa waved a dismissive hand. "Emm wanted to treat one of the guests with something special. You're the one whose closest to the guest's height and build. Why else did you think I'd need a dummy?"

Ah. Everything suddenly became clear.

Robin started to slouch, only to snap upright when something stabbed her in the side.

The seamstress murmured her apologies while another readjusted her shoulder before tacking a few white scraps of fabric on her arm. Robin gave her a strained smile and vowed to always find out the terms before she ever agreed to grant another favor.

While she was used to remaining still, she wasn't at all accustomed to doing it standing up with her arms bent at awkward angles. And she had heretofore lived without the joy of knowing that even the slightest of movements could result in her feeling more like a pincushion than a person.

Lissa, meanwhile, appeared to be deep in thought while she worked on a project of her own. Robin couldn't quite make out what she was embroidering, only that it was . . . colorful.

Just as her arms were beginning to burn beyond her ability to ignore them, two of the seamstresses carefully removed the sleeves before another set began draping and pinning the same white fabric to fit as a bodice and skirts.

Robin frowned at the pieces. If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn the fabric had started its life as a pair of bedsheets. But Emmeryn wouldn't have a fancy dress made for someone out of bedsheets would she?

That being the case meant that Lissa had embellished the truth. But why would she make up a ridiculous story in the first place? And why—

Robin's eyes widened as she remembered that her time was no longer her own. It took a few minutes of frantic waving—and subsequent grimacing as another pin stabbed her—before she caught Lissa's attention.

"You all right, Robin?"

Ha! No. No, she was definitely _not_ all right.

_Training. We're supposed to meet—_

Lissa jumped to her feet, shedding all manner of colorful threads. She glanced at the seamstresses before grinning at Robin. "Don't worry, Robin. I'll let Frederick know you're going to be coming soon."

_Wait! No! Lissa! Come back!_

She glared balefully at the seamstress pinning her skirts, but didn't dare move enough to rub the tender spot.

One day.

One day she would have her revenge. And it would be glorious.

In the meantime, though, she needed to survive. Then, and only then, could she enact her wonderful, glorious revenge.

* * *

Robin's steps slowed as the sweet strains of a violin and flute reached her. From the direction the sound had come from, the musicians would have had to be in the practice yard.

Yet, in no known universe did she ever see Frederick allowing it. While she was fairly certain he would enjoy that sort of grand and ponderous music while he was arranging flowers or adding to his pebble collection, the only thing he allowed in the practice yard was an education in survival.

And survival didn't sound like violins and flutes.

There was very little a person couldn't do once they reliably survived Frederick. To her knowledge, only two and a half Shepherds had received that distinction. The rest of them were still trying, and mostly failing.

Despite her mind patiently explaining this to her eyes, she couldn't ignore the musicians standing under the tree while the Shepherds were lined up into two even rows. There was no sign of Chrom, and Frederick was standing next to Virion with a sour lemon face he made no attempt to hide.

Robin narrowed her eyes as she studied the rows. There was something about them that—wait. Was Vaike holding a mop? And the music . . . She could almost feel the rhythm—

The horror of the situation dawned on her right as Frederick caught sight of her.

"Robin," he said. "Spectating isn't Shepherding."

Despite every lick of common sense she possessed telling her to run, Robin hopped over the low fence and meekly joined the group.

"All right! Now that the odds are even, the Vaike can dance!" Vaike moved to toss his broom to the side before Frederick caught his eye.

Frederick shook his head slowly, his gimlet gaze never leaving Vaike's.

"Ah, ma chérie. You have impeccable timing." Virion held out his hand, wrist up, looking for all the world like the world's least efficient butler holding up an invisible tray. "You shall, of course, be helping with the demonstrating."

"Man," Vaike muttered. "No fair!"

Robin couldn't have agreed with him more, but in the second she'd let down her guard, Virion had taken her hand and flourished her up to the front of the two lines.

"The key to moving with grace and poise is to remember that we are not dancing, but telling a story as we move."

"Er, what story would that be?" Stahl asked.

"The story of love. And romance." Virion twirled Robin a few times as if making his point.

Robin managed to keep her footing somehow, and was decidedly grateful she hadn't eaten anything yet.

Sully snorted. "So we're supposed to be romancing the bad guys before we gut 'em?"

"I-I don't reckon I can do that," Donnel said, wide-eyed as he clutched his lance.

Ricken frowned. "How exactly does that apply to magic?"

Miriel took a small book out of one sleeve and a stylus from the other. She stared at Virion, stylus at the ready.

"I have no need for this foolishness." Lon'qu glowered, his arms crossed, standing as far from the group as he could while still being reluctantly part of it.

_What exactly are we doing here?_

"We are killing two birds with one stone," Frederick said. He gave them all the look of a father who had gazed upon his progeny and found them desperately wanting. Disappointment didn't even begin to cover it. "Learning how to dance will improve your balance and footwork on the battlefield. It will also allow us the opportunity of avoiding the humiliation of the last two years."

Robin raised a brow. There was a story in that, and she had a hunch it had nothing to do with love or romance. However, it did not look like Frederick would be forthcoming with the details any time soon.

"Aw, you're still upset about that?" Sully smirked.

"If I were upset," Frederick said, each word clear and distinct, "we would not be having this conversation. Consider me, instead, to be a party interested in maintaining the dignity of our office."

"But Chrom didn't mind." Lissa giggled. "He had a lot of fun."

Lon'qu flinched at the sound and leaned a little further away from the princess.

"Be that as it may, we shall be here for as long as it takes to whip the lot of you into proper shape."

"A-aren't you going to dance?" Sumia didn't quite trip, only because Donnel managed to catch her before she went down.

Frederick shook his head, but his expression softened. "I am proficient in fifty-four court dances and thirty-three country dances. While Virion teaches, I shall be noting any mistakes being made."

"Let us begin," Virion said before anyone could mutiny. He waved to the musicians, and they played an opening chord. "We begin apart. The gentlemen stand with noble mien, while the ladies glow in loveliness."

Robin did her best to mimic the feminine pose Virion had demonstrated, but couldn't quite get her hips and shoulders to cooperate. From the sound of things, she was not alone in this.

"The lord spies the lady and stands back to bask in her radiance." Virion minced to the right, turned on his heel, and minced to the left. He then struck a pose reminiscent of all those statues of Frederick that were likely to be found in many a town square.

"The lady, noticing the lord, hides her blush behind her glove." He put his hand up, palm facing out, before swerving left two steps, then right.

Robin frowned. Virion made it look easy and delicate. While she got the footwork down all right, she felt as though she was warding off the terrible stench of the Risen.

"Hmm. Would not a fan be more efficient at curtailing an amorous advance?"

"What?" Ricken sputtered. "I'm not even old enough to—"

"Each, noticing the interest of their partner, approach carefully and in perfect decorum." Virion did something that was between normal walking and a hop, his steps small and even as he extended one hand toward Robin and placed his other hand on his hip.

"Oof! Sorry! Sorry!"

"Now don't go frettin' about nothin'," Donnel said as he steadied Sumia. "You're doin' jest fine."

"The lord bows in acknowledgement, and dares to call her beautiful." Virion's eyes were dancing as Robin subconsciously leaned away. His smile had a shade of smirk in it as he paused in place.

"How about competent? Or heroic?" Sully called.

"The lady, as modest as she is lovely, curtseys her greeting and demurely places her hand in his. They have a walkabout first to the right, drop hands, then to the left. At all times they look into the other's eyes, reading there the tender sonnets of the heart."

"Uh, Teach ain't hearing nothing from the mop over here."

Robin blushed. Then, when she could find no reason for blushing, blushed a little harder. Virion was . . . Virion. He turned words into poetry as easily as he breathed. He was smart and elegant and a dedicated fop of the highest degree.

The looks he was giving her were nothing more than banter she might have shared with any of the other Shepherds. He meant nothing by them, and she took nothing from them.

So why was she blushing?

"Now they come to an understanding. They arch their arms and step in, step out, and repeat to the left. Their hearts are one, and thus they are joined." Virion gave her a wolfish smile as he dropped his left arm only to curl it around her waist as he drew her in. "The lady drops her hand to hold out her skirts, but consents to walk beside him."

Beside him, huh? Robin felt more like he'd glued himself to her side.

"The courtship is blossoming as they continue on together. He leads her to the left, she takes him to the right. They join hands as they stand before their king and country."

Virion now had possession of both her hands, and had brought them close enough that—well, close enough. Too close. Not enough space.

"Lon'qu! We can't join hands if you stand that far away!"

"I can reach you just fine from here, woman!"

"But you aren't even touching me!"

"I could if I needed to!"

"Having thus been joined, the lord presents his lady." Through some sleight of hand, Virion managed to have Robin pivot so that his left hand rested on her hip while he kept her right hand in his. They completed a circle to the right, turned, and worked their way back to the left.

"Now that the lady is his, as he is hers, he dares to contemplate a kiss."

Before Robin knew what was happening, Virion had dipped her low enough that she feared for her balance. She was about to straighten up, by force, if necessary, when he winked at her. She raised a brow, confused. Just what was his end game here?

Virion let go of her hand and swept his arm elegantly, gently cupping her cheek. "And then, when the mood is right, he—"

"Stop!"

Virion chuckled before he swept her upright. He turned with a studied air of innocence. "Yes, Milord Prince?"

Chrom's face went bright red as everyone stopped and looked over at him. "I mean, er, that is to say. Robin! I need to speak with you. Robin, that is."

"Is it an emergency, Your Highness?" Virion asked with a politely insincere smile. He fluttered a hand toward Robin. "We are, after all, conducting a very important training session."

Chrom furrowed his brow. He glanced at Frederick who had maintained his sour lemons look the entire time.

"I am afraid he speaks the truth, Milord," Frederick confirmed, only somewhat grudgingly.

Frederick's endorsement only served to confound Chrom further, going by the expression on his face. He crossed his arms and set his jaw. "Yes."

"Ah, well." Virion turned and bowed to her, brushing his lips against the back of her knuckles. He sneaked another wink. "You were a wonderful partner, ma chérie, and quite a natural. Perhaps you were a dancer in your life before."

"Yes, well, here in this life, she is my tactician," Chrom didn't quite grumble. "And I need to go over some things with her. Right now."

"Best not to keep him waiting." Virion chuckled again as he handed Robin off to Chrom with a flourish that outdid even his previous efforts.

Chrom blinked at her before glancing at their hands. His eyes widened and he dropped his arm. His blush had burnished his cheeks bright enough that his whole face seemed to be glowing.

_Are you all right?_ Robin tried to act as she always had, but felt a blush of her own staining her cheeks.

"Y-yes." Chrom cleared his throat and gestured toward the castle. "There are some things we need to go over. If you don't mind."

Figuring it couldn't get any more awkward in there than it was out here, she nodded as they set off. She had to step quickly to match Chrom's longer stride. Not that she was complaining. She still had no idea what, exactly, had been going on in the practice yard, but she was relieved to leave it behind.

"So we've got to prance about with our enemies, get them to let their guard down, and then we gut them?"

Virion's long suffering sigh could be heard even though they'd traveled a fair distance across the yard. "No, my dear Sully. The culmination of the dance is a kiss."

"Wait! You mean Teach's got to kiss the bad guys?"

"I really don't reckon I can do that!"

_So, what's so important we need to talk right now?_ Robin asked. _Not that I mind . . ._

Chrom glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. "I thought we might go over what we discussed last night."

Robin's face burned as her shoulders slumped. She took a deep breath before catching Chrom's sleeve. She forced herself to look him in the eye.

_I am, well, sorry doesn't cover it near enough. I hope you can forgive me, Chrom. It won't happen again_.

Chrom shook his head and gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it, Robin. It happens to the best of us from time to time. It's not as though anyone can fault you. Sir Deidrich has put more than one person to sleep in his lifetime."

_Yes, but you trusted me, and I let you down. I promise I will do better_.

Chrom's expression turned stormy as he glanced back the way they'd come. "You don't have to dance if you don't want to. It isn't a requirement. For anything."

_I don't know. Learning how to move together and to anticipate where you're partner is going to be in relationship to yourself is actually quite useful. We should probably do more of the same in the future_.

Provided someone could convince Virion to take it down a notch or ten.

Despite her reservations in regard to Virion's methods, his story did the trick. She remembered every step.

"So you never did get a chance to tell me how you ended up fighting the Risen. Marth told me he left you safely at the gates."

Robin blinked at the sudden turn of the conversation. Then she sighed. _Yes, well about that . . ._

* * *

Sir Kellam, Lord Ricken, and Aunt Lissa stood in a semi circle facing her mother.

Lucina frowned as she studied the formation. Surely her mother wasn't thinking of engaging them all at once. Aunt Lissa hadn't yet graduated to the more advanced staffs, and Lucina's eyes already ached from the strain of focusing on Sir Kellam well enough to keep him from fading into the background.

And Lord Ricken presented a huge set of complications of his own, although they hadn't likely figured out exactly what those complications consisted of yet.

It was maddening, in a way, having to wait for them to discover all the things she and her friends took for granted. Lucina peered around the hedge she was crouched behind, trying to determine if it would be necessary for her to intervene.

The stakes were far higher than her parents knew. Though, in a way, she envied them their ignorance. Here, they could still laugh, and letting down their guard wasn't a fairly immediate death sentence. The sky had not yet turned to embers and ashes, and that fearsome monster was still fast asleep.

For now.

And soon, forever.

No matter what it took, no sacrifice would be too great to—

"You're sure about this, Robin?" Lord Ricken held a Fire tome, his finger marking his spot. "I don't think the captain would appreciate if you got hurt this close to—"

"Silly." Aunt Lissa laughed as she lightly goosed him on the side of the head with her staff. "That's what I'm here for. No one's staying hurt on my watch!"

"But—"

This time her aunt wasn't quite as gentle.

"Ow! What'd you do that for?"

"Less talk and more doing!" Aunt Lissa gave him a tight smile and nodded toward her mother.

Lucina bit in the insides of her cheeks in frustration. With her mother's back turned toward her, she couldn't tell what she was saying.

Her mother, finished giving instruction, slipped out of her coat and put it neatly on the ground a good ten paces or so away. As she walked back to the others, Lucina was struck by how small and fragile her mother looked. Without her coat, she somehow seemed more vulnerable.

A young girl about to be tangled in a series of battles that would lead to war.

Lucina blinked and shook her head. The future meant nothing without the past.

What was—

Robin had raised her arm and brought it sharply down. Lord Ricken nodded before calling up a blob of Fire he tossed toward Sir Kellam.

The Fire stopped just short of reaching Sir Kellam, but it glowed brilliantly as it sent out determined tendrils of flame.

Then, without warning, her mother raced toward Sir Kellam. No, that wasn't quite right. She wasn't trying to reach the knight himself, but the bright reflection of Fire on his armor.

But why—

Lucina's eyes widened. Surely her mother wasn't—

Her breath went still as she watched her mother hurl herself toward the light . . .

. . . Only to bounce off the armor straight into the ground.

The Fire snapped out as Lord Ricken and Aunt Lissa ran over to where her mother lay sprawled out and unmoving.

Right as they reached her, her mother held up a hand. It took her a moment, but she managed to get to her feet.

Lucina clamped her hand on Falchion's hilt. More than anything, she wanted to run over and make certain her mother was all right for herself. The only thing that held her in place was Lady Tiki's warning.

Destroying the past would destroy the future. They had already lost so much as it was.

Lucina gritted her teeth together as her mother walked away from the group before turning around to face them once more. Lord Ricken was frowning, but he provided the Fire while Sir Kellam provided the reflective surface.

Then she rushed toward the light, only to be repulsed.

Over and over and over again, Lucina watched her mother dart toward the light like a moth to the flame. And over and over and over again, she watched her fail. Each time it took her mother just a little longer to get back up. A little longer to prepare herself for the next run.

Lucina tightened her grip on Falchion. She mustn't interfere.

Her mother tried once more. This time, she didn't get up.

"Er, Robin," Lord Ricken said, swiping his sleeve across his face. "I need to take a break. Also, I promised Miriel I would help her go through and reshelve the books in the guild's library."

"How many books do you need to reshelve?" Aunt Lissa asked while she held out her staff so the green magic of healing could wash over her mother.

Lord Ricken's shoulders slumped. "All of them."

"Wow! But there can't be that many, right?" Aunt Lissa grinned. "Imagine having to reshelve the castle library."

Lord Ricken's slump deepened until his hat had nearly swallowed him. "The guild's library is three point thirteen times the size of the castle library, and that doesn't count the books that have disintegrated into mold, dust, or an enchanted swine."

"Enchanted swine?"

Everyone startled at Sir Kellam's question.

"Don't ask." Lord Ricken shuddered. "So is it all right if I go now?"

Lucina's mother thanked him before waving him on.

"So, uh, Robin," Aunt Lissa said after Lord Ricken had departed, "do you mind if we call it a day? At least for now? I, um, have some reconnaissance I'd like to do. Er, practice. For when we're out on patrols. Yup."

Lucina was too far away to see her mother's reply, but whatever it was, it caused Aunt Lissa to go bright red.

"Ha ha! I will. If he doesn't run away first!" Aunt Lissa waved before she sprinted toward the practice yard.

"I don't suppose you need me any more." Sir Kellam sighed.

Lucina squinted, but could only make out one word in five her mother signed to him. Setting her jaw, Lucina took a deep breath. She wasn't going to meddle. None of them would even know she was there.

She was just going to make certain her mother was all right. That was all . . . And maybe fill in some gaps. They had all been fairly young the last time their parents had gone to stand against Grima. Once she located all of the others, she wanted to have something to give them. Something that would help them stand strong and reassure them that all of their sacrifices had been worth it.

Her resolve fixed, she slipped between sunlight and shadow as ink-dark wings brushed against her face. When they cleared away, Lucina found herself perched up in a tree that was far enough away that she was unlikely to be discovered, and yet close enough that she could see her mother thanking Sir Kellam after making sure he was all right.

"You don't have to worry," he said, his cheeks going rosy. "I'm solid enough that most things can't hurt me."

"Which makes you one of our most valued Shepherds."

Without thinking, Lucina leaned forward as her father came into view.

"C-Captain." Sir Kellam's blush darkened. "That is kind of you to say."

Her father laughed as he clapped Sir Kellam on the back. "Kindness has nothing to do with it. You've more than earned your place among us."

It was then that her father noticed her mother lying on the ground, one arm flung over her face. He left Sir Kellam's side to crouch down next to her mother.

"Are you all right, Robin?"

_Fine. Fine. Just peachy_.

Her father narrowed his eyes. "And yet, here you are."

"I, er, um . . ." Sir Kellam started to back away.

When her mother didn't say anything, her father leaned back. Glanced at Sir Kellam and then at her mother, his brow furrowed as he tried to fill in the gaps.

"What were you doing?"

Sir Kellam froze in place, making it exceedingly difficult to spot him, even though Lucina knew exactly where he was standing.

_Training_. Her mother waved her free arm vaguely about them.

"What sort of training?" Her father's voice deepened slightly as it always did right before he delivered a sternly worded reprimand.

Her mother, perhaps sensing the shift in his mood, sat up before clutching her head and falling back onto the ground.

_Evasive maneuvering_.

"Robin." Her father sighed as he leaned forward on one knee. He opened his mouth to say something, then shook his head. "We didn't come back to Ylisstol so you could run yourself ragged. Getting proper rest is important too."

_Clearly. And so I am. A lady needs her beauty sleep, after all_.

"Er . . ." Her father made a face.

Lucina pressed her lips together. This couldn't end well.

Her mother sat up a little slower this time. _What? Did I say something amiss?_

"No, it's not that. It's . . . nothing . . ." He wilted a little under her mother's gaze. "It's just that . . . You caught me off guard. I didn't really see you as someone who cared after beauty and such. I suppose I've just never really thought of you as a lady before."

_Excuse me?_

Lucina shivered. It felt as though the temperature had plummeted fifteen degrees.

"No! I mean . . . I didn't mean—not like that!" Her father held up his hands and leaned back a little. "That is to say, a "lady," per se. You know, how you fight and strategize . . . Not to say that a lady can't fight, but . . . This is coming out all wrong."

Lucina put a hand to her mouth. Her memories of her parents were few, but she was certain her father had never blundered like this. Much to the disgust of her younger self, he was always stealing kisses from her mother, and they were forever reaching toward each other. Tiny touches. Fingers brushing against each other. A secret language they'd worked out so that they could "speak" no matter who might be nearby and listening.

But this . . .

Her mother glowered at her father. _You're the scion of a noble family, are you not?_

Her father rubbed the back of his neck and nodded.

_Well, with all those fancy tutors you must have had growing up, didn't at least one of them teach you manners?_

Her father grimaced. "Yes. Of course they did. Etiquette and such every year."

_Maybe you should have paid more attention when they covered how to talk to ladies_.

"I . . . did." Her father winced as even he could tell his tone was far from convincing. "It's just my image of a lady is someone so prim and proper . . . Perfumed and pretty . . . Nothing like you at all."

Her mother went completely still.

Lucina wanted to hide her face, but she couldn't look away. This had happened before, surely. And her father had obviously survived . . . Hadn't he?

"When I look at you I just don't see a "lady." Does that—Er, Robin? What . . ." Her father backed up a little, wary. "What are you doing with that tome?"

Her mother didn't say anything. She rolled up to her feet, brandishing her tome as one might a hammer or a sword.

Her father scrambled to his feet, one arm outstretched as though to turn aside the fury radiating off her mother. "Wait! It was just a—a jape." He laughed weakly before deciding that discretion was the better part of valor. "I, er, Frederick! Must go! Now!"

Lucina watched with wide eyes as her father, her _hero_ , did something she didn't think was even possible.

He ran _away_.

Her mother slipped her tome back into one of her pockets and shook her head.

_To be fair, I don't exactly consider him a lord or a prince. Not enough airs, and too many broken practice dummies_.

To Lucina's horror, her mother was standing right below where she was hiding in the tree.

_But then, I'm not certain that you're a lord either_. Her mother looked her directly in the eye. _Marth_.

Lucina's mouth went dry as a thousand answers and scenarios rushed through her mind. How had her mother seen her? And how long had she known she was there? She hadn't looked over in this direction. Not even once.

"I never claimed to be a lord."

_No, you didn't_.

Perhaps if she—

_I wouldn't do that if I were you_.

Lucina froze. Her mother neither looked nor sounded angry. Instead, she had her head canted to the side, and a certain lilt to her tone that she had whenever she'd caught a riddle neatly with one hand.

Or a little princess shimmying down the tree right outside her window.

"I . . . wasn't doing . . . anything."

Her mother smirked up at her. _You sound remarkably like someone I know_.

Don't meddle over much. That's what Lady Tiki had told her. Revealing herself, and thus her parentage, definitely fell into the _over much_ category.

_I've been waiting to speak to you_ , her mother went on when it became painfully apparent that Lucina wasn't going to respond. _Are you going to come down or do I have to come up there?_

This was bad. This was very, very bad.

It was that night all over again, when she'd thought she could hide in the tree until her mother went away. Her mother had offered her the same choices. Fortunately her younger self had chosen poorly so she wouldn't have to repeat that mistake all over again.

"I—I'll come down to you."

Nodding, her mother stepped back to give her enough room for her descent.

Lucina dropped lightly from the tree, her eyes never leaving her mother's. As much as she wanted to run, she wanted to stay just a little bit more.

That, and she wasn't certain she'd escape. Her mother was exuding a calm confidence that came from tying up all the loose ends and ensuring victory would come regardless of anything her opponent might do.

_You know, you really do bear a striking resemblance to someone I know_. Her mother's eyes narrowed. _You also understand me. And you seem to know a great deal more than I do about myself_.

It was only through force of will that Lucina held her tongue. Seeing them here, together. Happy. Safe. An impossible dream she couldn't risk breaking.

_If I didn't know better, I'd think you came from the future_. Her mother was smiling, but she was also watching Lucina very carefully.

Even if she'd wanted to, she couldn't lie. Somehow her mother always knew. "Please believe me when I say that all of this is my future."

Her mother's eyes narrowed. _From the past, then?_

Lucina needed to do something to distract her mother from that kind of thinking, or not only would her world be lost for a second, and final, time, but she'd have a furious divine dragon to deal with as well.

Choosing the lesser of the two evils, Lucina bowed her head. "You seek to make an ally of the light."

Her mother raised her brows. _You've said something like that before. What does it mean?_

Lucina nodded to where the Shepherds had been "practicing" the so-called evasive maneuvers. "Precisely what you think it means. Or close enough."

_Not anywhere near close enough_. Her mother shook her head and smiled ruefully. _I had the bruises to prove it_.

"You aren't as far from it as you think."

Her mother pressed her lips together, and Lucina could almost see her moving through as many possible scenarios as she could come up with like wind through a grassy field.

_Will you help me?_

Lucina blinked, certain she must have misheard. "Please understand that I can't—"

Her mother waved an impatient hand. _I know. Something compels you to speak in puzzles and riddles, but I obviously can't work this one out for myself_.

"You don't understand. You must chart your own course. This cannot be done any other way."

_You are the one who doesn't understand_. Her mother frowned at something only she could see. _I have to master this. And if that means becoming an ally of the light, then so be it_.

Do not meddle over much. Lady Tiki's warning was loud in her mind.

Lucina shook her head and turned away so her mother couldn't see her longing and regret. "I'm sorry. I should go."

Her mother caught her by the sleeve. _Please. I need to know how to do on purpose what I've been doing on accident_.

"With time, you'll learn all you need to know." Lucina's voice went gruff to hide the way her heart was breaking. To think that her mother and father, legends to more than just their own children, were very much like Lucina and the other children of the Shepherds.

_You can't know that_.

Lucina hesitated, glad at least that she'd thrown her mother off that particular trail and all that it lead to. One small reprieve that she would celebrate later, once she was alone.

"Have faith in yourself and each other." She jerked her arm to release herself, but her mother clung to it with her trademark stubbornness.

_I made a promise_ , she said. Or something as close to that as she could since she had only one hand to sign with. _Two promises, actually_.

_I have to master whatever it is that allows me to vanish in order to keep them both_.

Behind her mask, Lucina's eyes widened. At some point her mother would have mastered shadow stepping, but this was the first time she'd heard about promises.

"You're closer than you know," she whispered.

Robin glowered at her for a moment. _Fine. If you can't speak directly, then give me the answer wrapped up in a riddle. If I'm really as close as you say, then I should be able to figure it out_.

"And if I can't?"

Her mother's expression turned hard. _Then I shall endeavor to solve another puzzle, and it will be me watching you from a tree_.

The conviction in her mother's stance confirmed what Lucina already feared. She would be safe in the other realm. Her mother couldn't possibly follow her there. Then again, her mother had made a name for herself for doing things she shouldn't have been able to do.

She had a knack for beating the odds. One that, apparently, Lucina had inherited from her.

"Why does this matter so much to you? I can assure you that you will learn it all in time."

Now it was her mother's turn to hesitate. Her fingers plucked half-formed answers from the air before rejecting them all.

She let go of Lucina's sleeve.

_Because I need to protect Chrom_. Her mother pressed her lips into a single line as though she could keep all her other secrets from spilling out.

Of course her mother would find the _one_ answer she couldn't refuse.

Lucina cleared her throat. "Find the place between shadow and light. You'll know when you find it, because it will call out to you. Be careful, though. It will take you to the place your heart lies. If you master your heart, the light shall become your ally. Fail, and the light will leave you to the shadows."

Her mother nodded as she committed Lucina's words to her memory. Lucina just had to hope that her meddling hadn't crossed over to _over much_ yet.

_Thank you_.

Lucina sighed. "I hope you will still be able to thank me later on. It is dangerous to step between worlds."

She sighed again when her mother looked thoughtful rather than duly warned.

"I mean it. Just as you can be healed there as well as here, so too can you be killed."

_Thank you. I will not take the gift you've given me lightly_.

Her words turned to fire in her throat, so Lucina could only nod. She moved to sweep toward wherever she might be going—the where didn't particularly matter at the moment—when her mother intercepted her.

_Whenever we see you, you are always alone. You tell me to have faith in myself and the others, well, I want you to know that you can have faith in us as well. You don't have to fight whatever private war you're waging alone. You have come to our aid many times; it is only fair if we come to yours_.

Lucina pressed the back of her hand against her lips. She would not cry. Not here. Not now.

She nodded once, sharply.

Then, before she could move, her mother pulled her into a hug. Lucina stumbled as she tried to free herself. The last person she had hugged had been her little brother in what seemed like a lifetime ago. She couldn't afford to drop her guard now. Especially she couldn't allow her parents to—

Her mother let go and stepped back. Canted her head to the side as she gave her a measured look that was at once gentle but calculating.

With a cry, Lucina stepped between the light and the nearest shadow. Her form dissolved into a cloud of butterflies, but not before her mother caught her eye.

_I will keep your secret_.

When she came to herself on a stretch of silver path that gleamed through the darkness, Lucina struggled to bury the longing for home and family. Her home and family had already been lost, and there would be no getting them back.

It wasn't for herself that she fought darkness and despair at every turn.

It was for her father.

Her mother.

Her brother.

And the little Lucina yet to be born.

She could have no connections here.

Not now.

Not ever.

And yet . . .

There was a sudden warmth in her heart that hadn't been there before. She couldn't remember what they'd looked like, the last time her father and mother had gone to war. What they'd worn. The expressions locked on their faces.

What she did remember was how they'd pulled her and Morgan into their arms. How they'd huddled together one last time as a family, a spark of hope against an endless night.

Then the night had fallen, and she didn't think she'd ever feel warm again.

And yet . . .

Lucina stared at the road gleaming of into the distance. One of these roads led to her parents. And another, to the little brother she'd sworn to protect.

She just had to find it.

* * *

The last few days had passed in a whirlwind of meetings, paperwork, sneaking into the library, dodging Frederick, and trying to unravel the riddle Marth had given her.

Then there was dealing with the logistics of securing proper housing, adequate meals, and retaining the odd blacksmith or two, all in preparation for the Feroxi troops that should be arriving in short order.

And that didn't even touch on the lessons for proper etiquette and deportment she had been unfortunate enough to receive. In her darkest moments, Robin considered dragging Chrom along with her, and she nearly had a time or two. But when she noted the shadows under his eyes and how his gaze had gone muted and glassy, she had mercy on him and simply took copious notes for a time when he was less than half asleep.

In fact, the last thing she remembered was trying to parse out which fork did what and whether an earl required the same degree of a curtesy as a baron.

So it was that Robin had no idea how she'd ended up perching on top of a stool while the seamstresses, who had teamed up with a small contingent of maids, draped sparkling fabrics over her person, spritzed enough perfume and rose water for ten royal gardens, attacked her hair with ribbons and jeweled pins, and—worst of all—spread some sort of white sludge over her face before treating it like a blank canvas in want of a masterpiece.

It wasn't until she'd stumbled off the stool, with the help of two maids on either side, that she realized she hadn't been alone. All of the female Shepherds were in various stages of the same treatment she had undergone.

Lissa was cherubic in a buttercream gown with emerald flounces and gold ribbons that sparkled in the candlelight.

The soft dusky pink of Sumia's gown perfectly matched her complexion. Her hair had been curled and pinned, with pink flowers woven through.

The deep indigo of Miriel's gown sparkled silver when the light struck it just right. And despite the simple cut and lack of any other embellishments, she looked stately and regal.

Sully, however, was the most fantastic of the bunch. Her gown was a deep scarlet with sheer sleeves that fluttered gracefully with her movements. If Robin hadn't personally seen her smashing through opponents and battle dummies with her own eyes, she never would have credited it.

But the evidence was right there and completely incontrovertible. Underneath all the curses, armor, and brawn, Sully could actually pass herself off as a lady.

"Not a word," Sully growled when she caught Robin staring. "I'm going to get an earful as it is."

Robin's mind went blank as she tried to work out who would be stupid enough to irritate Sully—shimmering gown or not. Sully being Sully, she likely had an impossible number of small weapons hidden somewhere about her.

"Well, I think you look great." Lissa grinned as she bounced over to them. "We all do."

"Indeed," Miriel hummed as she pushed her spectacles up on her nose. She pulled a small book and a stylus out of her sleeves. "I must admit that I am greatly looking forward to gathering more information for my current hypothesis concerning objectivity, attraction, and beauty, so far as they apply to be seen through the lens of humanity."

Sully gaped at Miriel. "This is a party. We're supposed to be having fun, not working. Didn't you read the invitation?"

Miriel blinked at her. "There was an invitation? I regret to inform you that I neither read nor had such a thing in my possession. If I may be so bold to ask, do you have an invitation or an authentic replica that I may peruse prior to joining the others."

"Well, it's not like there was an _invitation_ invitation." Sully waved her hands in small circles, and Robin had the distinct impression that the cavalier was missing her trusty lance.

And, more than likely, her horse.

"But I thought you said—"

"We're all Shepherds," Sumia said as she joined them. "It's expected that we'll be there, and I think the captain would be embarrassed if he had to send each of us an official invitation."

Robin's eyes narrowed. It spoke to how deep her sleep deprivation had gone that she hadn't thought to question the why behind the fancy gowns. And, now that she thought on it, she could vaguely recall that the dress that had been fitted to her when Lissa had talked her into being a dress dummy was very similar to the gown she was wearing now.

Of course, the other gown hadn't looked like it had been dipped in a candle's flame at the time. Rather than the marigold and sunflower silks she wore now, the other looked as though it had been cut from bedsheets.

_So, about that gift your sister wanted to have made for someone . . ._ She pinned Lissa in place with a glare.

"Ah, about that." Lissa giggled nervously. "Would you believe Emm found something else to give, but not until after the dress was made?"

Robin frowned at her. _No_.

Lissa giggled again. "Just checking. But we're already kind of probably late, so let's discuss it later."

Robin tried to catch Lissa's arm, but her fingers closed over nothing but air.

"Don't worry about it," Sully advised as they followed Lissa—albeit at a more sedate pace. "If you don't know what to do, you don't really have to do anything. Besides, the fun doesn't really start until after the party's over. I made a bet I don't intend on losing."

Robin's alarm must have shown, because Sumia patted her gently on the arm. "It really isn't as bad as it sounds, and it can be a lot of fun too. I know you don't really like dancing—"

_What_ , Robin demanded as they were stopped by an official looking man with an official kind of air, _does dancing have to do with anything?_

Sully and Sumia gave her odd looks while Miriel was busy scratching something into that book of hers. Lissa had run on ahead, but Robin was determined to corner her at some point.

"What exactly do you think we're all doing here gussied up like birds with pretty feathers?" Sully asked.

_Aren't we getting some sort of official recognition for our role in securing the Feroxi as allies?_

Her question clearly perplexed two of them—she wasn't certain Miriel was even listening to what they were saying—but before they could explain, the footman handed each of them what turned out to be decorated masks they tied on with ribbons.

It was only after they'd tied on their masks and had entered through the great double doors beyond the doormen that Sumia was able to whisper, "This isn't so much about us as it is about _him_ —the captain, I mean."

_Yes, I suppose being the captain would place him in the position for accepting the honors. But if that's the case, why are we all here? And why are we all wearing masks?_

Now that they'd entered what turned out to be a very large ball room of sorts, Robin was struck with how many people were milling around—all dressed in beautiful gowns in a wide array of eye-dazzling colors. And all wearing masks.

And why was the steward calling out their names before they were permitted past the entry?

Sumia's mask covered enough of her face that Robin couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"Robin, this doesn't have anything to do with Regna Ferox." She fiddled with the ribbons on one of her sleeves. "This is a celebration for the captain—as a prince, not as a captain."

"Aw, heck," Sully whistled low. "Nobody told you?"

Robin glared at her. _Told me what?_

Shaking her head, Sully gestured to the room in general. "It's Chrom's birthday."

"It's about time you all made it," Vaike said as a group of gentlemen converged upon them. "Teach was just about ready to give the go ahead if you'd taken any longer."

_The what?_

"Ah," Virion bowed his most majestic bow yet, "it is our great privilege to escort the fairest of all maidens as we bring our well wishes to our prince and captain."

While Robin was still trying to process this sudden turn of events, the steward announced their arrival, and she was making her way down the grand staircase along with the others. For one terrifying moment, her mind went completely blank and she would have stopped walking entirely if the Shepherds behind her hadn't nudged her forward on their own momentum.

She buried her hands in her skirts as she did her best not to trip. Never before had Robin missed her coat and all its wonderful pockets as acutely as she did now. Of course she wasn't entirely unprepared. While the maids had been occupied doing up her laces after they'd stuffed her into her gown, she'd managed to slip a slender volume detailing various weapons and their uses down the front of her bodice.

But that was back when she hadn't been paying anywhere near enough attention to what was actually going on. And even if she had, it wasn't like her book was very accessible at the moment. So Robin made due, as best she could, with—

She jerked her head up as another piece of the puzzle fell neatly into place. Virion's dance lessons and Frederick's stoic acceptance of the same. Something had always seemed to come up, so Robin had never made it to another lesson.

And then had promptly forgotten all about it in favor of the things currently occupying all her time.

Improve their swordsmanship her foot! She was going to have a word with Frederick the second—

Robin's step faltered, and she nearly tumbled down the few remaining stairs.

Chrom's birthday. It was a celebration for Chrom's birthday—which meant that his birthday bore some significance—beyond himself, that is. But what? And was the celebration the full extent of it? Or were the guests meant to observe his birthday in other ways like with sweets or presents or—Robin groaned. Everything she knew about birthdays could be counted on one finger.

But by then they'd reached him.

Or rather, them.

Emmeryn stood on one side of him, resplendent in mossy greens and soft golds, while Lissa stood on his other side. Chrom hardly looked like himself. His hair had been neatly trimmed, and he wore a suit of dark blue and ivory. None of them wore masks.

And then he smiled when she curtseyed a full beat behind the rest, and she found she recognized him after all.

"Thank you for coming," he said, laughter making his tone lighter than it would have been otherwise.

"See? I told you," Lissa whispered, nudging her brother in the side.

For some reason, her words brought a light blush to his face.

"Please, enjoy yourselves." Emmeryn swept an arm wide. "The dancing shall begin after the promenade."

They were then expertly herded off by another set of footmen who directed them toward where the refreshments had been set up. Robin looked over her shoulder as they were led away, confused. None of the Shepherds were what Robin would classify as strictly normal, and yet they'd been behaving oddly even for them.

The question was why.

The Shepherds fell upon the tables with the kind of focused determination that made them Ylisse's elite warriors.

Robin stood, watching them for a few minutes, a warm sort of pride swelling in her heart. The court would—and often did—despair over the Shepherds lack of refinements, but intimate knowledge of place settings aside, they were loyal, true, and a force to be reckoned with.

And somehow, without her consciously recognizing it, they had also become her family.

Steeling herself for another late night, Robin plucked at Sumia's sleeve.

_How is all of this done here? Birthday celebrations, I mean_.

Her friend considered her question while she nibbled on a cream puff. "We usually have a small get together. There's food, friends, and a tournament."

Robin raised her brow. _What sort of tournament?_

"Oh, you know," Sumia waved a hand, "the kind where we throw mock battles together. Celebrate the person's strengths and what they uniquely contribute. The finale usually ends with the person going up against Frederick alone."

_And you all do this . . . for . . . fun?_ She couldn't think of anything less enjoyable than eating dirt thanks to Frederick's trusty lance.

Sumia giggled. "Yep. It sounded crazy to me at first too, but there's something about being able to see how far you've come since the last year."

Robin crooked her mouth to the side. There was merit in what Sumia was saying, but she was certain there must be other, less painful ways of measuring a person's growth.

_What about here?_ She waved toward the ballroom that was fast filling up. _Are we expected to do . . . anything? Bring gifts? Swear fealty? Sneak away before Frederick catches up to us . . . ?_

Sumia's expression went soft, and Robin was forcefully reminded of her first impressions of the Pegasus Knight and her own resolve to help her friend concerning the matters of her heart.

So why was Robin's chest going tight? And why did it feel as though all the words she would never be able to say out loud had turned to fire? Sumia was her friend. She should want her friend to be happy, shouldn't she?

"The captain doesn't really care for that sort of thing. I think he's happiest once he's able to slip away from court to celebrate with us."

Robin nodded, her thoughts rapidly shoving past each other while she tried to work out the tangle of . . . something . . . knotting itself up in her gut. She sighed as all her efforts just seemed to worsen the things.

"You know," Sumia spoke softly, seemingly choosing each word with care, "if you ever want to talk about anything, I'm here for you."

_As am I for you_. Robin balled her hands into fists. Was what she'd said the truth, or had she only wanted it to be so?

She frowned. Dealing with bandits and Risen was much preferable to this. There were no complications, no . . . tangles bungling things up. Just straightforward stabbing and Thundering until there were none of them left standing.

Simple and easy, and no confusion or regret.

Sumia looked as though she meant to say more, but as she opened her mouth, a pair of heralds blasted a few notes from their official looking horns.

Once everyone's attention had turned to them, they executed a complicated set of trills before the other musicians—each set up in a corner of the ball room—joined in.

"The promenade is my favorite part," Sumia murmured, her eyes shining. "There's so many beautiful gowns every time."

Robin turned her head along with everyone else as a stream of elegantly dressed people flowed down the staircase and over to bow to Chrom and his sisters. The people walked with a kind of deliberate grace that seemed to accentuate every movement no matter how small, every lady on the arm of a lord.

_Who are they?_ Robin asked. They, like nearly everyone else, wore glittering masks that ranged from fanciful to strikingly beautiful.

Sumia rose up on the balls of her feet to see better. "All the noble houses of Ylisse."

Ah. It made sense that the court would choose the most ostentatious way to remind the Exalt and her family exactly who it was that brought them well wishes. With the underlying principle being that those who brought well wishes might one day withhold them.

Robin frowned. She'd been to one too many meetings with the court, and now she was starting to think like them. Or at least she was starting to understand their way of saying nothing with their words and everything with their actions.

She did not envy Emmeryn, Chrom, or Lissa in the slightest. Give her a bandit or a Risen any day over the perfumed and pretty pomp and ceremony.

And yet . . .

_Why aren't you with them? Nearly all of the Shepherds hold titles_.

"Heh," Sully said as she joined them. "None of us are the heirs. Good thing, too."

Sumia hummed her agreement as she drank in all the details of the noble procession that was making its ponderous way into the center of the ball room.

_I don't understand_.

"What you see up there," Sully gestured to the nobles, "is every Shepherd's worst nightmare. It isn't just the froth and fills, but the duties and responsibilities that go along with being the heir. If we were valuable, then we wouldn't be allowed within a hundred miles of the Shepherds."

Robin looked at the procession with new understanding, and for the first time, she had an inkling of what it meant to 'live in a gilded cage, with bright feathers and a lovely song.' It usually annoyed her whenever historians tried their hand at poetry, but in this sense it was an apt description.

Sully grinned at them. "How about we put all of Ruffle's lessons to good use?"

"Oh, I, er . . . I think I'm just—"

Ignoring any objections they might have had, Sully seized her and Sumia by the arm and dragged them through the crowd to where most of the other Shepherds were competing to see who could clear their plate the fastest.

The rules, however, looked to be a little more complicated than that, as most of them had their hands tied behind their backs and a few were wearing blindfolds.

"Oy!" Sully shouted, dropping their arms, all thoughts of dancing completely gone. "I can't believe you started without me!"

Sumia leaned close as Sully marched over to Vaike and gave him a friendly punch in the arm. "Sully's held the record for three straight years."

Watching the fiery-haired cavalier elbow her way through the crowd, Robin could well believe it—especially if Sully ever had to rely on her own cooking.

"Hey, Sumia," Stahl waved. He wove through the other Shepherds and the curious onlookers. "You want to dance?"

"What about the contest?"

Stahl looked back the way he'd come. "Yeah, no. Ordinarily I'd join in like a starving wyvern, but Sully doesn't fight fair."

Somehow that didn't surprise Robin in the slightest.

"All right." Sumia smiled before she glanced at Robin. "I mean, that is—"

Robin held up her hands. _I think I'd rather people watch for now. I didn't get as much practice as the rest of you did._

"One dance," Sumia promised before allowing Stahl to lead her over to where a number of couples were already stepping in time to the music.

Smiling, Robin ducked away from the Shepherds and slowly made her way over to the nearest wall that led to an exit.

She had almost made her escape when a gaggle of beautiful gowns came between her and a nearly invisible side door. Robin narrowed her eyes as she studied their formation. It would be close, but if she turned sideways—

"I simply cannot believe Lady Caerdiwell managed to secure not one, but two dances!" A lady in a crimson gown accented with garnets and gold thread snapped her fan open and fluttered it against her cheek.

"Two?" A gown the color of midnight swished beside the crimson. "That's not very fair of her. Her daughter is hardly the only one, and is only just eligible at that."

"Greedy," a girl clad in an emerald gown sighed.

"Indeed."

"Quite so."

"It's not as though she stands a chance. She's a sweet girl, but a plain little thing."

Someone laughed a little cruelly. "Temperament hardly matters to a prince who surrounds himself with women who have more than adequate looks."

A purple gown sniffed behind her feathered fan. "I doubt he takes them seriously, what with that dowdy little creature that seems to shadow his every movement."

Robin froze, her stomach flopping uncomfortably.

Lilting laughter boxed her in on all sides.

"I know what you mean! I've seen her stalking her way through the castle."

"Who is she anyway?"

"Who cares?"

Silver skirts whispered as a dainty glove beckoned them all to come a little closer. "I've heard that she is some sort of charity case."

"Ah."

"One of those."

"Nothing to worry about then."

"Indeed! Mother found out that she couldn't even remember her own name at first."

"A likely story. She was probably just preying on the prince's kindness."

The purple gown sniffed once more. "The court won't allow any machinations on her end. The idea of a nobody fixing her sights on the prince would be laughable if it weren't so pathetic."

Another round of carefully modulated titters wrapped bands of iron around Robin's lungs. She forced herself to move carefully, though she wanted nothing more than to run away. The only thing worse than being the object of idle gossip, would be to be caught in the middle of the telling.

"Ha." The crimson gown snapped her fan shut. "I doubt he even marks her presence. She has no money, no name, and nothing of any value to offer."

"If only he'd make his choice. He ought to have by now. He's well past the age of his majority."

"I've heard that the Exalt won't allow the court to force his hand—yet."

The emerald gown sighed. "He's too busy playing the hero to pay any attention to what's right in front of him, if only he'd look."

"Yes, well," the crimson gown straightened, her lips curling into a wide smile, "with the increase of enemy incursions, I'm certain the court will constrain him one way or another. It's one thing to play the hero when things are relatively calm and safe, but it's the height of selfishness to continue the charade in times like these."

"I don't know. He's awfully dashing and cuts quite a heroic figure when he wants to."

"He isn't a child anymore, Cherise."

By some blessed chance a slim opening appeared as the purple and emerald gowns converged on the silver. Robin practically dove through in her haste to make her escape.

The world seemed to waver unnaturally as she wove her way through the crowd. It wasn't until she'd tripped over someone or other that she realized it was her tears that obscured her vision.

How dare they speak of Chrom as though he was nothing more than expensive meringue! An ornament to gawk at without any aspirations beyond securing a tolerably looking title who was incapable of seeing who he really was.

As if he could find their conversation anything more than repulsive.

Robin wondered how many of those vicious little tongues would have breath enough to gossip if Chrom and the rest of them had left the Risen and the bandits well enough alone. It was only because he'd worked so tirelessly at repelling their enemies that so few lives had been lost at present.

If she had had the words, she would have given them more than a piece of her mind. And yet, it was probably a good thing she couldn't talk. She would probably only end up complicating things for him in the end.

Although if he ended up choosing someone of that sort to marry of his own free will, Robin would be forced to admit that she had never known him at all. Not even close.

And as for _playing_ the hero—

Robin was so intent on her fury that she didn't notice the doorman until it was too late.

Or, rather, the door he had swung open from the other side.

She skipped to the side to avoid getting smacked in the face, her arms frantically moving to find her balance.

Despite her best efforts, she tipped to the side. The glint of candlelight reflecting off a serving tray caught her eye right before she fell into it.

She had braced herself for the mess she was about to cause, only to realize that all had fallen completely silent.

And she hadn't fallen at all.

Cautiously, she straightened, her eyes darting around as she tried to figure out exactly where she was. The immediate area was dark, with shapes interspersed vaguely about, and draped so heavily with shadows that she could make little to nothing out of her surroundings.

"Hello?" she called, clapping her hands over her mouth the moment she heard her own voice.

This was it! She was here. Somehow the light had called, and she had answered.

Robin's jubilation dimmed as she realized that she had been so focused on learning how to Vanish properly and on purpose that she'd completely overlooked how to Vanish back into her own world.

She'd done it once before when they'd cornered the bandits, but every other time Marth had been there to do it for her.

Marth.

Now there was a riddle.

What had she said? Something about the light leading to her heart. And if she mastered her heart, the light would then become her ally.

Did that mean she could use light to Vanish from one spot to the next?

"No way to tell, other than to move forward," she said out loud—both because she could, and because the sound of her voice made the vast space surrounding her feel a little less lonely.

Robin drew in a deep breath before humming the song that had been playing back in her own world. She turned this way and that until she found a direction that seemed to tug at her a little more than any of the others.

Pushing her shoulders back, she buried her hands in her skirts to keep from tripping over them. A nest of dragons stirred in her gut, but she pushed her discomfort aside. Now that she was here, there was only one thing left to do.

"Let's go," she whispered as she took the first step toward finding her heart.

* * *

Chrom had never been so relieved to stand under the stars before. It had nearly taken an act of Naga, but he'd managed to sidestep all the fuss and scheming to make good on his escape.

He had not managed it without a few casualties, of course. Emm would likely remind him of all the duties he'd ignored on the morrow. He was going to have to be sure to remember to check his bed for frogs until Lissa forgot she was annoyed with him.

And Frederick . . .

Frederick had caught up with him almost immediately. Silent. Stoic. Deeply disapproving.

Chrom sighed. He really should have consulted with Robin on a plan of escape beforehand, but he'd done his best to keep all the pomp and ceremony as far from his tactician as humanly possible. The last thing he wanted was for her to clam up again.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness?"

Chrom blinked at the three lords who had managed to corner him the second his back was turned. Frederick was a sturdy presence just outside his line of sight, so running was probably out.

"My apologies. Please go on." Better to be bored out of his mind than to be surrounded by determined mothers on a mission to point out to him how much better his life would be should their daughters become the object of his affections.

Lord Persch nodded before continuing to extol the wonders of wyverns. Chrom's vision went slightly out of focus as he wondered what Robin was doing. She had been easy to spot—both for the brilliance of all those little gems twinkling with candlelight on her gown and that she was most definitely the shortest Shepherd to date.

Save Ricken.

And even then, Chrom gave him a year or two at most before he hit a growth spurt.

She hadn't looked irritated or nervous for the brief moment he'd seen her, so that was good. Although he wondered where she was at the moment. Probably holed up in a corner somewhere reading.

He smiled at the image while he looked slightly over Lord Persch's shoulder. Then he blinked as a line of light formed above the fountain in the main courtyard right before something yellow and orange and twinkling with starlight dropped out of it.

Chrom blinked again. He wasn't seeing things, was he?

Frederick stepped closer. "Milord."

So Frederick had seen it too.

Smiling at the thought that he'd finally be able to put those horrible etiquette classes from not long enough ago to use, he bowed.

"My apologies," he said once Lord Persch paused long enough to draw breath. "There are some matters I must personally attend to, but I would ask that you continue to enjoy yourselves. I'm sure Frederick would be happy to show you to the refreshment tables."

Then, with a silent apology to Frederick, Chrom strode off purposefully toward the fountain. He'd been watching it the entire time he'd been extricating himself from the wyvern enthusiasts, and if he had not missed his mark, whatever had fallen into the fountain was still there.

His step faltered as he noticed something staring at him over the rim of the fountain before it ducked down again. He didn't know whether to laugh or pretend like he hadn't seen anything.

"Robin?" he murmured, squinting down at the dark waters inside the fountain.

There was a small splash, a long silence, and then a sigh.

"What are you doing here?" Chrom asked. It had been magic that had brought her here, of that there was no question. But what kind of magic?

There was another long silence before she moved into view. She swiped at her mask that had been knocked severely askew. And when that didn't work, she attacked the ties until she was able to wrench it off entirely. From the height of her head, she had to be kneeling, and while she didn't appear to be hurt, he wanted to be sure.

_I'm fine_.

Of course she was. Shaking his head, he offered her his hand. "There are better places to hide than in the fountain, you know."

She shook her head and retreated into the shadow of the bowl of the fountain.

"Robin, you're going to catch your death of cold if you stay in there, and Lissa's going to kill both of us if your dress is ruined."

The silence stretched out between them.

Realizing that any further attempt to reason with her would be futile, he studied the area he'd last seen her in before lunging forward and catching her arm.

Which turned out to be her hand.

Which turned out to be wet and cold.

"Come on, Robin. Your hands are like ice. Time to come out."

Chrom had expected her to resist. What he hadn't expected was for her to resist quite so insistently. He leveraged himself against the lip of the fountain, and he might have succeeded at pulling her out if an unfortunate puddle of water hadn't made the ground slippery.

His free arm windmilled as he tightened his grip on her hand. There was a brief moment when everything seemed to freeze in place.

In the next breath, he landed next to Robin with a tremendous splash.

She was staring at him, eyes wide and her hand over her mouth, horrified.

_Chrom. Are you all right. Did you—your head—I mean—are you—_

At least that's what he thought she'd said. Even if she hadn't been trying to speak with just one hand, she was shivering too hard to sign clearly.

"I'm fine, Robin," he said. Then, because her eyes were already darting around to map out her escape, he caught her other hand in his. "I wasn't teasing about Lissa. She really is—"

"Milord."

Chrom froze for a moment, and then squeezed her hands reassuringly. "Yes, Frederick?"

Frederick gusted a sigh. "It is hardly fitting for the prince of the halidom to be sitting in a fountain in the middle of a celebration that is being held in his honor. Even more so when he is in the company of a woman to whom he is neither betrothed nor bound by blood."

Chrom turned to Robin and grinned at her. "He makes a good point."

She sighed, but allowed him to help her out of the fountain. Her skirts slapped heavily about her legs, and there was a moment when she nearly fell back in, but Frederick managed to grab her other arm in time.

"I don't suppose you have a blanket or something on you at the moment."

Frederick gave him a dark look. "I'm afraid I left it in my other suit."

Chrom smirked, but forgot about Frederick the moment he glanced at Robin. She was staring at him with a look that might have been a mixture of horror and wonder. Whatever her feelings, her hands were hidden in the drowned volume of her skirts.

"Robin?"

She blinked and let out a breath. Then the wonder left her expression and turned to complete horror. She made a gesture that ordered him to remain in place before she whirled around.

Chrom glanced at Frederick, but the man didn't even so much as twitch.

When Robin turned back around to face them, she held a sodden book in her hands. Horror had turned to tragedy, and he moved without thinking.

Pulling her against himself, he murmured in her ear, "Let's get you somewhere warmer. I'll wager Miriel might be able to help with that."

She pressed her lips together before handing the book off to Frederick. _But your celebration. A lot . . . A lot of people were looking forward to dancing with you_. For some reason, her expression had turned sour.

Perhaps it was the moonlight. Or maybe it was because they were standing sopping wet in the middle of a courtyard on the eve of his birthday. It might also have been due to Robin managing to look lovely, even if she looked a bit like a drowned fish. Whatever it was, he was feeling bold enough that all those etiquette lessons flew out of his head.

"There's only one person I think I could dance with tonight." He caught one of her hands and raised a brow.

Robin studied him for a long while before nodding. She hopped in place for a moment to kick off her sodden slippers.

Frederick cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at them. "Milord would be wise to do the same if you plan on be able to walk anytime soon."

Chrom chuckled. "What would I do without you, Frederick?"

Frederick's expression thawed by such an infinitesimal amount that Chrom was half certain he'd imagined it.

"Considering what Milord gets up to _despite_ my presence, I shudder to think." He bowed to Robin. "I shall do what I can to save your book."

Her fingers were still trembling as she thanked him, but he had already retired a discreet distance away.

Once Chrom succeeded in freeing his feet, he turned to Robin and held out a hand. "I feel bad that there's no music out here."

She gave him a measured look before placing her hand in his. There was something in her eyes . . . An expression, an emotion, that he couldn't quite name. He had a ridiculous notion that it had something to do with him, but whatever it was, she wasn't glaring, and that was good enough for now.

The image of their son played before his eyes as they fell into position. As he bowed and she curtseyed, he could almost hear the ghostly laughter pressed into his memory. But it was a more recent longing that had him tracing out the steps to the dance Virion had been teaching the Shepherds only a few days ago.

"Have you been enjoying yourself?" he asked, then cringed. He'd never had any difficulty speaking to Robin before, but his mouth had gone dry and his mind curiously blank.

_For the most part_. She turned and made a decent attempt at swishing her skirts. When she looked over her shoulder at him, he jaw dropped open on its own accord.

_Something amiss?_

He snapped his jaw shut and thought furiously as they joined hands. Despite Robin's faith in the abilities of his tutors, they had never covered a situation anything remotely near to this.

He gestured to his face while she turned. "Your face."

She raised a brow at him.

"It—it appears to be . . . melting? No—falling off." He nodded, secure in his observation. "Just the chin and up through the . . . your cheek."

Robin gave him another unreadable look. _Chrom, if this is your idea of something funny—_

"It isn't. I swear." He gently swiped a finger beneath her chin. When he pulled away, half of her chin came with him.

She frowned at the white goop dripping from his fingers. Then her eyes widened, and she moved as though reaching for one of her pockets, only to discover that ball gowns didn't come equipped with such necessities.

She looked so lost, standing there with a good portion of her face about to fall off, that Chrom wanted to pull her back into his arms. Instead, he reached into his tunic, silently thanking Frederick for always insisting he carry a handkerchief.

"Here, try this." As he handed it to her, a tiny roll of vellum fell to the ground.

_What's that?_ Robin turned away, presumably to remove as much of the goop as she could.

Chrom's ears burned as he bent to scoop it up. "It is—was—a thing. I wanted to—for you." He cleared his throat and moved to stuff it back into his tunic.

Robin put out an arm and stared at him over his handkerchief. She glanced at the vellum and gave him a meaningful look.

Chrom rubbed the back of his neck. He'd been trying to find the perfect word ever since Sumia had come up with her idea. Lovely and beautiful were the first he'd come up with, and then discarded for being too trite. Lissa had already given her frog. And once he saw the efforts of the other Shepherds—Miriel's book of words, most notably—he'd continued to put it off.

He gestured to his chin. "Is your face—is everything all right?"

Her eyes crinkled a little as she smiled at him. _It's fine, Chrom. This was just makeup. I_ knew _they were putting it on a little thick_.

"Ah . . . ha . . . ha." His laugh died in his throat as she continued to stare at him.

_Well? Are you going to give it to me?_ She held out her hand as though they'd already settled the matter.

And he supposed they had.

Wordlessly, he placed it in her hand. He watched her every movement, enjoying the play of moonlight on her face. How her brow furrowed as she read what he'd written. The way she could stand there dripping wet and still manage to look as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

She looked at him then, and it wasn't their child he saw, but her.

Much of Robin's hair drooped down around her shoulders, while a few jeweled pins clung tenaciously to the wet tendrils. Somehow she seemed to glow with moonlight . . .

He reached forward and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Her eyes went wide, but she didn't move away.

Didn't look away.

As he watched her glimmering against the night, he knew then that she wasn't just his tactician, nor simply a Shepherd. If she ever had been. No. She was the future—his future.

All that was left was to convince her of the same.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he reached for her. Every second he spent drawing her in was the second he feared she would pull away.

Yet she didn't run. Didn't step back. And her eyes never left his.

He was close enough now to see the uneven patches of the makeup she had missed. To see the way the stars shimmered against the dark backdrop of her eyes. Her eyes themselves were wide, and yet they seemed to be smiling. She smelled of the wind and burning leaves and something else. Cinnamon? He marveled as he memorized every line and plane of her face. Every shadow hollowed out by moonlight. The shape of her soul and the sound of her name.

Robin's eyes fluttered closed as he leaned in, her breath soft against his own. His heart pounded so hard, he was certain she could hear it. And his throat was filled with words, promises, all the things he wanted to tell her.

And he would.

But first . . .

"Sheesh, Chrom! Why are you standing there barefoot outside when everything's—oh!"

His eyes flew open, and he realized he'd aimed a little higher than he'd intended. His face burned as he turned to face his sister.

No. Strike that.

_Sisters_.

Of course they'd both come. Now all he needed was—

"Milord."

If Naga were merciful, she'd drop a mountain or something on him right then and there.

"I'm sorry, Chrom," Emm murmured, looking far happier than she had in a long time. "We thought you'd—But it seems you are perfectly fine."

And Lissa, well, going by her grin, he didn't think frogs were going to figure into his future any time soon.

Robin tugged on his sleeve. She tucked the vellum into the top of her bodice. _Blueberry pie?_

He gave her a weak smile. "It has sentimental value."

"Milord." Frederick pushed something official looking into his hands. "I'm afraid we need to move now."

The quiet intensity of Frederick's voice made Chrom pause. With more than one misgiving, he shook the packet of papers open and skimmed over a paragraph or two.

His head snapped up as he crushed the letter in his hands. "When did this arrive?"

"Only just now, Milord."

"What is it, Chrom?" Lissa demanded, a hand on her hip.

Somewhere in the distance, Chrom could hear the beat of the drum that had dogged his father's entire existence. War only needed one party interested in causing as much harm as possible.

He handed Emm the letter, steeled himself to face his little sister. "Brigands. They've attacked Themis."

Lissa shook her head. "But Maribelle—"

"Is in the custody of the King of Plegia. Held for crimes against his people, along with trespassing into his kingdom." The words dropped like stones from his lips.

They had long called the King of Plegia mad, but was he really so depraved and hungry for violence that he would instigate the very war Emm had spent most of her life trying to prevent?

"Milord, I will have everything ready by the time you've changed. We must make haste."

He nodded. "Emm—"

"I'm coming with you." Her mouth was a single line, and her eyes bright with determination. She didn't wait for him to argue, let alone agree. Instead she marched off, her back stiff as she faced a future she was determined to avert.

"Robin, I—"

She squeezed his arm and nodded. _I'll be there_. Then to his sister, _Lissa, come with me_.

Chrom spared a moment to watch them go. "How long have we got?"

"The King of Plegia is demanding an audience before the next day falls. However," Frederick pursed his lips, "the longer she is in his custody, the more dangerous the situation becomes."

"We'll save her, Frederick," Chrom promised. "And with Emm there, we might just be able to avoid our father's footsteps."

As he sprinted toward his chamber, Chrom sent a silent prayer to Naga. They would end this peacefully. They had to.

The mad king would have to see the goodness embodied in Emm. And not even one lost to bitterness and hatred could stand unmarked by it.

Emm would lead them to peace.

But just to be sure, he would stand, waiting, with Falchion in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bwah ha! It is finished! I hadn't intended on this chapter being so long, but before I knew it, Virion was giving the Shepherds dance lessons, Robin had cornered "Marth," and by the time I looked at the word count . . . *facepalm* Still, it was worth it to see Virion tweaking Chrom. O:)
> 
> But! Chrom finally gave Robin his word. They danced! And . . . I got stuck for a while at the part where he was insisting he had kissed her and his sisters insisted otherwise. It took me longer than it should have to realize they were both right . . . kinda. :p
> 
> Blueberry pie, indeed. There will be more on this. And, despite not seemingly very romantic or . . . normal . . . on the surface, Chrom has assured me that blueberry pie is most definitely all of the above. We shall see. B-)
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading/commenting/sharing/stopping by and spending time in this crazy little world of mine! I couldn't do it without all of you. Thank you!


	29. Chapter Twenty Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. Except for the really weird stuff. Those parts are probably me.
> 
> To any who may have doubted or thought this day would never come: YOU'RE WELCOME! :p

Robin was not fond of horses.

Sully's horse always looked like it was plotting something nefarious and snapped at her whenever she got too close. Quicksilver had made it clear early on that she did not prefer to spend time among the riffraff and, much like Frederick, seemed to view Robin with unwavering suspicion.

As for Sumia's abomination with wings, well, the less said about Snow Drop, the better. Although _hell_ and _spawn_ were what Robin heard whenever Sumia gushed about her pegasus by name.

So it was with trepidation that she approached the stables once she'd learned that they'd be traveling by horse. Something about speed being of the essence. Honestly, she'd been too preoccupied trying to comfort Lissa while wresting with all the wet laces on her gown to pay proper attention to the messenger.

A decision she was regretting mightily at the moment.

Lissa, being neither riffraff nor edible, was greeted warmly by most of the horses. At least they sounded happy to Robin.

As far as horses could sound happy, she supposed.

She stared at the doors before her. It was statistically impossible that every horse in the stable would be plotting her downfall or waiting for her to suddenly betray Chrom, thus triggering the first set of horses to commence with their plans.

So why did she feel as though her legs had turned to iron right along with her lungs?

It wasn't like they really needed her. After all, from what little she'd heard, this sounded like a dispute between Plegia's king and Ylisse's Exalt.

Right. Which meant she could—

"Robin, you came."

The warmth in his voice melted the iron just enough for her to turn. The moonlight reflected in his eyes rendered her cowardly retreat null and void.

Darn it.

The tip of her nose started to tingle, but her legs were no longer frozen and she could finally breathe.

_A lady keeps her promises_. Robin sighed, not sure which one of them she was reminding.

Chrom's smile froze, and he cleared his throat rather unconvincingly.

Robin narrowed her eyes. _Chrom, you are_ not _going to tell me that you still haven't resolved your idiotic notions about me after I wore that gown I was tricked into, after I allowed all manner of paint to be slathered on my face, and—_

He gripped her gently by the shoulders, and his gaze both softened and intensified as if all the world around them had disappeared and he would never look away from her again.

"Robin, I—" Unaccountably, Chrom's cheeks darkened. His mouth moved for a moment before he shook his head. He took a deep breath and leaned closer, but before Robin could question his sudden need to whisper, Frederick strode up from behind her.

"I've readied Trueheart for you, Milord. As for you, Robin, we had not yet had cause to take measure of your riding skills, but I can assure you that Lovely Carrot's temperament is gentle and easily handled by even the most novice among us."

It wasn't until Frederick shook his hand impatiently that Robin realized he has handing her the reins.

Or trying to.

No matter how hard she willed it, she couldn't unclench her fists. And even if she'd managed to do that, there was still the issue of raising her arm and—

Frederick frowned at her. "You have ridden before, haven't you?"

Robin dearly wanted to remind Frederick that amnesia made little things like remembering anything that had happened prior to Chrom finding her in the field a little impossible, but she couldn't tear her gaze away from Lovely Carrot's face.

There was an awful lot of it, and why was it looking at her like that? The horse was hungry, wasn't it?! And, wow! Were all horses' teeth that big?! They were large enough to bite a person in half!

Robin shuddered as the ghostly feeling of horse teeth closing around her middle pinched uncomfortably—

It was moving! Coming closer!

It was . . . sniffing her! Why was it sniffing her?!

"Milord, perhaps this is one mission where we might not need the guidance of a tactician."

Chrom sighed as he rested a hand on her shoulder and the other on her opposite arm.

Wait. When had he gotten so clo—

Thoughts of their proximity flew from Robin's mind as she backed into Chrom. Lovely Carrots, no longer content with sniffing her arm, moved to whuffle Robin's hair.

"I want to trust in Emm's goodness, Frederick. I want to believe the mad king will be persuaded to both peace and reason. But as Prince of the Halidom, it is my duty to ensure we are prepared in the event our greatest fears are realized."

"And so we shall be, Milord, provided our tactician does not die of fright before we've even left Ylisstol."

"Die of fri—Robin?" Chrom nudged Lovely Carrot's head away from her so he could turn her around to face him. He put a hand to her cheek, brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

Now that the horse was no longer in biting distance— _Lovely Carrots my foot!_ —Robin's muscles thawed just enough for her to move her hands.

_Fine. I'm fine. Perfectly fine. Never been better. Just peachy_. She shoved her hands into her pockets when it became clear she was in no state of mind to do anything beyond babbling.

"I suppose she could ride with me." Frederick's tone and expression indicated that this idea was as welcome as falling in a mud puddle before tromping through a bog on his way to high tea.

The feeling was mutual.

Double mutual, if one took Quicksilver's feelings into account.

Which was precisely why she should present a different plan. A better plan.

_I'm fine. Really. I've gotten a lot stronger since becoming a Shepherd, and I am completely all right with getting there under my own power._

Chrom blinked at her, but she could feel Frederick's gaze boring a hole in the back of her head.

"As talented as you are, Robin, I highly doubt you can outrun a horse."

Robin could almost _hear_ Quicksilver agreeing with her master.

She gave Chrom a weak smile. _I'm happy to try_.

"Captain, the Exalt and her escorts are ready," Stahl said, leading his horse over to them. "We're just waiting on Vaike and the three of you."

Chrom took the reins from Frederick and gently guided Robin toward the horse. "See, Robin? There's nothing to be afraid of." Lovely Carrots nuzzled its face against his hand. "It'll just take a little time for you to get used to each other, but before you know it, you'll be fast friends."

From the way her heart hammered and her muscles had turned to stone, Robin highly doubted that.

Besides, she had a rule that she never intended on breaking: never make a pet of, or friends with, something that had even the slightest chance of eating her.

That went triple for anything that had four legs, hooves, and a tail.

Frederick sighed. "I'll resaddle Quicksilver. We should be on our way after that."

"No. You're too valuable as both a vanguard and as a scout. Resaddle Trueheart." Chrom handed off the reins to Stahl. "Do you mind seeing to this one?"

"Sure thing, Captain." Stahl accepted the reins. He gave Robin a reassuring smile. "I've got a spare muffin somewhere or other if you're hungry. Eating always seems to settle my nerves."

Robin could only smile back in gratitude that he was taking the potential tactician-eating creature away.

"Milord, are you sure that's wise? There are others who could—"

"I'm certain."

"Very well."

Robin waited until Frederick was out of view before she turned to Chrom. _I'm sorry. I don't know, but—I'm sorry_.

To her surprise, he didn't look angry or annoyed. If anything, he looked amused.

"To be truthful, it comes as a relief to know you have fears like the rest of us." A smile played at the corner of his lips, but Chrom managed to keep his expression serious.

Shame burned in her cheeks, and she dropped her gaze. It was a miracle in and of itself that he was so trusting. So understanding. It was tempting to believe his patience could last forever, but nothing ever did. Sooner or later, everything turned to ashes and dust. She would have to be careful—work harder—to gain control over anything that could threaten that.

_If I present a potential risk to the success of the mission, then I should remain here_.

"Robin, I need you on this mission with me." Chrom frowned into the distance. "The King of Plegia is not to be trusted, nor should he be underestimated. We go, hoping for peace, but we must be prepared in the event that he pushes for war."

_Would he really do that?_ Memories of blue lines burning their way across an entire country were as crisp and clear as if she held the maps in her hands. _Surely they would not have had time to rebuild. To recover_. She frowned at her boots as her mind calculated the horrific tally of lives that must have been lost. _Your father was a very thorough man_.

Chrom didn't say anything, save for the storm brewing in his brow. And, too late, Robin remembered to whom she was speaking. The scars of that war had to be long and deep, and they were not relegated only to those who had entered the battlefields.

Robin went up on her tiptoes and brushed her fingers against his cheek to catch his attention. She wanted to reassure him. To promise there would be no war. That the King of Plegia would listen to reason, to goodness, because how crazy could a person be?

But looking into his eyes, dark with memories, she found she couldn't lie. Not to him.

_I will be by your side for as long as you'll have me_.

Chrom's eyes widened and he seemed to be searching for something in her face.

"Milord."

He glanced over her shoulder and grinned. "It's a relief to hear you say that, because we're ready."

Robin stiffened as she heard the soft sounds that came in on the edges of her nightmares. Her heart and hands went cold as she felt a presence come from behind that loomed so far above her.

Chrom squeezed her shoulder. "Robin, I'm going to mount so I can help you swing up behind me." He gently pried his tunic from her fingers.

She closed her eyes as he stepped around her. All she could hear was a rush of air, the sound of her heartbeat throbbing at her temples. The pressure building in her head intensified until she was sure it was going to explode with it.

Then all fell silent.

The sun.

It was shining warm and bright as she walked along a road that hopefully led to a town.

Anticipation tingled in her fingertips.

A phantom pain radiated through her limbs.

Fear dogged her footsteps.

Across the way, shadows pulled away from the trees. Congealed together until a magnificent steed watched her from beneath the branches.

No breeze stirred the air.

No sunlight dappled across its ebony flanks.

And then it shifted, and she caught a glimpse of its rider.

She reached down to catch fistfuls of her coat. She was standing right here. But she was also over there. A smile sharp as a blade on her face as she kneed the horse into a cantor . . .

Everything disappeared then, as a wall of starless night raced toward her.

* * *

The weight in Chrom's arms was both strangely familiar and comforting.

To say that Robin had a fear of horses was to understate the fact. While she had avoided Quicksilver and the other horses, she hadn't ever even hinted that they terrified her. If he had known her fears ran this deep, he never would have insisted she accompany them.

But by then her muscles had gone as rigid as if she'd frozen solid. It was only after Lissa administered something that was supposed to sooth and relax her that they managed to get Robin into the saddle at all.

Of course, by that time she hadn't been exactly conscious, but Lissa had assured him the effects of the potion should wear off soon. Which was why they'd pressed on. Too much time had already been lost.

Apparently soon encompassed the five stops where they'd exchanged their exhausted mounts for fresh ones, the setting of the moon, and the rising of the sun. Lissa had checked her each time, but found nothing amiss.

Spurred on by the urgency of the situation, they'd foregone any stops that hadn't been absolutely necessary. From the position of the sun, he estimated they'd reach the border between Themis and Plegia right around the time it reached its zenith.

Yet despite the gravity of the situation, he felt a warmth and lightness swelling in his chest. He might not have declared his intentions as clearly as he would have liked, but it had been a start.

And _she_ had leaned into _him_.

By all rights, he should have been dead in the saddle. But having her right there in his arms made him feel as though he'd never know exhaustion again. He would have rested his cheek against her head, but Frederick had surpassed wary the moment they'd left the stables.

So Chrom had focused on his breathing and reminded himself that, despite Frederick's misguided zeal, he meant well. Although what impropriety they could commit while tearing across Ylisse on horseback, surrounded by the rest of the Shepherds and Emm's escort, Chrom had yet to work out.

So he'd shut out as many wary looks as he could, and he'd allowed himself to dream.

To imagine a time in the very near future when propriety would no longer be offended by Robin resting in his arms.

Or by his delighting in the fact.

Emm would give her blessing. In many ways, she already had. And Lissa had practically already adopted her. His little sister didn't frog just anyone.

The only one who might object was Frederick, and even he had to admit things had run smoother, better, since they'd found Robin. And despite his overprotective nature, he wasn't incapable of seeing reason.

Probably.

It wasn't until they'd crested the rise that would lead to Themis that Robin began to stir. Chrom let out a breath he'd been holding since all the way back in Ylisstol.

"Robin," he murmured into her ear as she shifted just enough to be on the verge of waking. "I've got you. You're safe. And we're almost there."

She tipped her head back and blinked up at him, her eyes still cloudy with sleep. But they were clearing fast, and he knew the moment she'd woken up enough to remember.

"If you can, just focus on me. It . . . wouldn't be a good idea to panic right now."

Robin remained stiff in his arms, but managed to nod. She pressed her face into his chest and held onto him tight enough that propriety was shocked, scandalized, and appalled.

"Themis is just up ahead, and once we pass through the city, only a league or two left and we'll be at the border." Then, because she seemed to be listening, he told her about all the places they'd passed on the way here. His hopes and fears for Ylisse. Anything that came to mind, really.

While she wasn't relaxed in any form of the word, she had kept her ear tilted toward him. So he kept talking in the hope that, perhaps, he might take her mind off the present and ease her fears somewhat.

And then find some way to make this up to her.

It wasn't long before they were galloping through the denser parts of Themis. The roads were fairly empty, and it wasn't hard to see why. The whole eastern quarter looked as though it had been put to the torch. Though they'd passed it at some distance, the scent of smoke clogged the air.

Chrom tightened his grip on the reins. How many homes, how many Ylissean lives would it take before the madness leading Plegia would be sated well enough for them both to get back to rebuilding and reforming shattered lives?

It took all his willpower not to urge his steed to go faster.

Emm was suing for peace, and he wasn't about to let anything sabotage her efforts—be it madness or impatience. Justice would have her day, but for now, they needed to save Maribelle and protect Themis.

They stopped a league before the border.

"We should have a plan before going in."

Despite Robin's fears, she had agreed with him when he'd asked her opinion.

His sister sighed. "We will reason with King Gangrel and clear up any misunderstandings that may have arisen."

"Seems like there was one he—heck of a misunderstanding in the eastern quarter," Sully said. She glared at Frederick who had given her a look of warning.

Emm sat taller in her saddle. "We will send aid to those who have been affected. I know that this will only complicate relations between our two countries, but no amount of reparations demanded will be able to bring life back to the dead—and it is the living to whom we must look after."

Robin elbowed Chrom in the midsection. _Let me use your spyglass. You do have one, don't you? They're supposed to be standard issue._

"My spy—oh." Embarrassment burned the tips of his ears. "In the rush, I'm afraid I only grabbed the essentials."

She crooked her mouth to the side before giving him a wan smile. _So all you brought was Falchion and the Shepherds then?_

"You know me well," he said, laughing.

_Then ask Frederick for his_.

"His what?" Frederick had somehow managed to maneuver Quicksilver until he'd arrived at Chrom's side.

"Robin needs a spyglass."

Frederick raised a brow. He dismounted long enough to extract his spyglass from his saddlebags. "At this distance, I don't imagine you'll be able to make out much of the details."

Robin nodded as she accepted it. _I don't need the details. I just need to see the lay of the land. Please schedule an appointment with Miriel. She could help with this_.

Frederick frowned. "With what?"

_You have an appointment book don't you?_

"Yes."

_There you go_. Robin pulled out the ends of the spyglass, elongating the metal tube. She shifted around a bit before putting it to her eye.

"Milord."

Chrom resisted the impulse to tease Frederick. From the expression on his face, he had even less patience than usual. "We can discuss everything after we've rescued Maribelle."

Robin continued to shift her position as she looked through the spyglass. She sighed a few times before folding it back in and handing it to Frederick with a hastily sketched thank you.

"I am happy to see you've overcome your sudden terror of horses." Frederick tucked the spyglass into a small side pocket on his saddlebags.

"Frederick," Chrom sighed.

Robin, who had been scratching something into one of her books paused.

_No, I'm afraid I still abhor them_.

Frederick raised a brow, none of his suspicions allayed. "From the outside, anyone would say you seem to be faring much better than you were before."

Robin blew on the page before snapping her book shut and stowing it into one of her pockets. _Yes, but that's because of Chrom_.

Even the little look of triumph Frederick shot him couldn't dampen the sudden happiness humming in Chrom's heart. Perhaps he'd conveyed himself better than he thought.

"So you admit you have designs upon Milord."

Robin stared at him a beat longer than necessary. _It's more a matter of reputation than design. This is Chrom we're talking about. Bane of Battle Dummies, Scourge of Non-Falchion Weaponry. The one who keeps the castle blacksmiths and leatherworkers busy eleven days out of ten._

"I fail to see how that applies," Frederick said at the same time Chrom started to protest his innocence, thought the better of it, and then closed his mouth.

_I don't have any memory of actually getting on the horse. Either my amnesia's getting worse, or I was more preoccupied than usual. Regardless, here we are, leagues upon leagues from Ylisstol, and I'm still in one piece. Since it wasn't the horse's doing, I can only credit Chrom_.

Despite the Frederick-shaped storm that was brewing, Chrom couldn't help but smile. This was one instance where he would happily take full responsibility.

Robin shrugged. _Chrom trumps horse. It's as simple as that. Also, we should get moving. The Plegians look antsy, and the deadline's nearly upon us_.

"A notion I heartily agree with," Emm said from where she'd been watching their conversation.

A blush burned itself across Chrom's face when he noticed that everyone had drawn into a circle around them, and more than a few Shepherds were giving him pointed grins. Robin's gestures tended to be larger and far more exaggerated when she wanted to drive home a particular point, so they wouldn't have had much trouble seeing what she was saying.

"Right," Phila said, snapping to attention. "How would you like to proceed, Your Grace?"

"I believe it would be best if I led the way." Emm gave Chrom an apologetic look, finely laced with her own kind of stubborn. "The Shepherds shall act only as silent witnesses, and shall move forward only if we fall under direct attack."

_She makes it difficult to protect her, doesn't she?_ Robin asked, her movements small enough that only someone paying attention would have noticed she'd spoken at all.

Chrom choked on a laugh. While he wished the situation was different, it was nice that Robin was gaining a small appreciation for how he felt in regard to her.

They waited until Emm and her escort were in position before the Shepherds formed two tidy lines behind her. Emm nodded to Phila, who gave the signal for them all to advance.

They rode in silence for a time before Robin nudged him.

_I wasn't always afraid of horses_. Robin shook her head as she stared at something only she could see. _I'd just forgotten that I am, along with the reason why. It wasn't until we were standing there, waiting, that I started to remember_.

"Wait, you're starting to remember? That's wonderful, Robin!" To his surprise, she wasn't smiling. Her lips were pursed, her eyes dark. "Er, I mean—"

Robin twisted around and put a finger to his lips. _Who I was—what I was—before isn't your fault, Chrom. If a few odd phobias are the price of my past, then I shall consider myself lucky._

Her eyes gleamed a little too bright, but she turned back around before he could be sure. The sniffle, however—

"I may not have known you then, but I know you now, Robin, and your heart is good and true. You have my faith because of who you are. Forgetting your past, yourself, would not have fundamentally changed that." He wanted to curl his arms around her and just be. Her and him. And maybe, if she allowed, press a kiss about an inch lower than his first attempt. But Chrom was acutely aware of the sidelong glances they were receiving, and trespassing upon her unspoken fears seemed too intimate a thing to do in front of, well, everyone.

So he settled for patting her gently on the head.

Somewhere behind him, Sully snorted and Vaike started laughing.

"Awww," Lissa crooned. She didn't say anything else. She didn't have to.

If it had been anyone but Robin, Chrom would have preferred the frogs.

* * *

The man Robin assumed was King Gangrel stood with a woman drenched with venom on a little rise at the foot of the baby mountain.

It had been quickly decided that Emmeryn, Chrom, and Lissa would parley with the king. Robin wanted to object on the grounds of keeping the royal family of Ylisse safe and due to the large number of horses on the premise, but she held her peace. Chrom already looked more than a little torn, and she didn't wish to make an already difficult situation any harder.

Besides, she wouldn't be standing by idle. Chrom had wanted her to come along for a very good reason, so it was time she did her job.

First things first.

Lon'qu eyed her apprehensively as she approached him. Mindful of his need to avoid close contact, she stopped as far from him as she could while still being able to reach him.

After all, she was keeping a generous Lon'qu Distance between herself and all the mounts.

He accepted the slip of vellum, gingerly pinching it between a finger and thumb.

_Now's the time to prove yourself. The second anyone makes an aggressive move toward them, your job is to get Lissa out of there and back to safety._

_By which, I mean Ylisstol._

_Understood?_

He glanced at her briefly before nodding. "Understood."

Even though he'd not understand, Robin sketched her thanks, and then headed for Phila. The message was the same, only it instructed her to make off with Emmeryn.

The Pegasus Captain narrowed her eyes. "My orders come from the Exalt herself. I'll not gainsay her directives."

Peachy.

_Well, the Exalt will no longer be in any position to issue any further directives, let alone breathe, if she's been run through. Do you really want to shoulder that responsibility?_

Phila's eyes narrowed to mere slits. "You're going too fast for me to understand."

Robin blinked at her, and some of her temper dampened when she followed Phila's response to its logical conclusion.

"Ylisse needs her Exalt." Frederick had joined them at some point. "The Shepherds will take full responsibility should the subject of blame and responsibility arise."

"Very well." Phila nodded to both before returning to her pegasus.

_Careful, Frederick. People may start to think you trust me_ , Robin signed with only a little more acid than the occasion called for.

"They would be right, if they were referencing your capacities as our tactician. It is when you act outside that capacity that I question your motives."

Temper painted her cheeks red, and if they hadn't been on an urgent mission to prevent a war from breaking out, Robin would have given him a little more than a piece of her mind. Even now, under what promised to be a blazing sun, she could feel the cold malice of that horse.

The terror curling in her gut as it raced toward her.

The horror of seeing her own face on the one riding the dark horse. That had been, perhaps the worst shock of all.

In an effort to distract herself, she turned on her heel and went back to planning. Emmeryn's demand for peace and fear of war was slowly, but surely, going to leave Ylissean's collectively unable to defend themselves.

War was less an agreement, and more an inevitability once one party decided it should be so. And madness never would see reason.

Which was why she had a position among the Shepherds.

Speaking of, a few of the more curious had wandered over.

"It's good to see you up and walking around." Sumia dropped down beside her, a handful of wilted stems clutched in her fist.

Robin almost hated to ask, _How go the flower fortunes?_

Sumia sighed. "Honestly, it could go either way. For now, though, I'm just going to trust in Ylisse. In us."

_Good plan_. A few more swishes of her quill, and the second counter offensive was complete. Emmeryn had nearly reached the point from which they'd agreed she'd parley. Was there time to draft a third?

"You really think that's going to be necessary?" Sully asked, gesturing to her book.

Robin smiled at Sumia. _It could go either way, but I like to be prepared_.

Truthfully, while she was cognizant of why Emmeryn stood where she did on the issues of war and peace, the problem wasn't going to go away of its own accord. If Plegia didn't officially rise up against Emmeryn, her own people would, given enough time. Especially along the border.

It's a good thing they had the Shepherds.

"Robin," Frederick looked grim, "there is something you should see."

After a brief debate with herself, she accepted the spyglass he'd handed her and magnanimously did not smack him over the head with it. The battle had been short, but bitter.

But all thoughts of Frederick's inability to trust her fled out of her head when she raised the glass to her eye.

The "Mad King" had been aptly named, and there was something about his companion that troubled her.

"No," Frederick raised her glass toward two specks that appeared further up the mountain, "up there."

Robin peered through the spyglass before pocketing it. _Miniature dragons?_

Then, because Frederick was giving her that look again, she pulled the spyglass out and stared through it some more.

"Wyverns." His frown deepened when she glanced over at him. "Plegia's version of a horse."

_Ha! A horse with win . . . gs_.

Horsefeathers!

Ice crackled in her veins, and it felt as if all the air had been drained away where she stood. Pressing her lips together, Robin grabbed Frederick's arm and dragged him over to where the royal family was cheerfully negotiating some sort of trade with a king one horse short of a belfry of wyverns.

Or, more accurately, Frederick allowed her to drag him over. She realized that the second he pulled up short and nearly wrenched her shoulder from its socket.

"Despite the threat we cannot approach yet," he murmured, his eyes on the Plegians. "Anything could tip the balance at this point."

Just as the King of Plegia declared the negotiations at an end, a small group of Plegian's charged toward Chrom and his sisters.

_How about now?_

Frederick nodded as he gave the reins over to his overprotective instinct.

They sprinted over, but Chrom had already dispatched the first to raise his ax against Emmeryn. "Stay back or you'll all suffer the same fate!"

Robin thumbed through her book, found the page with her counter offensives. Despite the unwelcome surprise of the wyverns, they still looked useable.

"Now that's a declaration of war if ever I've heard one," the king said, sunlight glinting off his teeth. "A big, messy war that shall spell the end of all Ylisseans!"

He laughed then, and it sounded exactly like what Robin thought a crazy, deranged wyvern would sound like.

Emmeryn paled as the king's companion sauntered over to where Maribelle was being held. "Chrom . . ."

Robin glared at Lon'qu and Phila as they swept off with their respective charges. Luckily for all of them there hadn't been any archers, but there were mages nearby.

"I assume you've got a plan," Chrom said, looking angrier than Robin had ever seen him.

She held out her book as the other Shepherds crowded around her. They'd go for the first counter offensive. It was simple and straightforward, which would give her a perfect opportunity to see how the wyverns were utilized in battle.

_Your horses can make it up the slopes, correct?_ she asked Frederick.

He nodded, as did Sully and Stahl.

_Excellent. We'll need to move fast to get Maribelle out of there_.

Robin looked through the spyglass to mark Maribelle's exact position. She'd expected to see the noble putting up a lady-like fuss and confusing the Mad King's minions with multi syllabic words.

What she hadn't expected was a blur of something that seemed to be mostly composed of Hat throwing a Wind spell at the Mad King's companion. Before grabbing Maribelle's hand and running with her . . . further . . . _up_ the . . . mountain.

Where more Plegians and those dratted wyverns were waiting for them.

Of all the—!

Why?!

Up! Why'd they have to run up!?

Screaming in silent frustration, Robin realized too late that she'd thrown the spyglass at them.

The Shepherds went completely still as she whirled around to face Chrom.

_You told him he couldn't come. Please tell me you told him not to come!_

"Slow down there," he said, the gravity of his expression completely undone by the laughter glimmering in his eyes. "Tell who he couldn't come?"

_Ricken! He, or someone wearing his hat, just ran away with Maribelle_ deeper _into the enemy's territory! With a horse_! It was only because of Chrom's hand resting on her shoulder that Robin had the presence of mind _not_ to throw her book at them as well.

As it was, she'd been shouting through her gestures, and accidentally smacked Frederick's spare spyglass he'd retrieved from his saddlebags out of his hand. It landed on the rocky ground with an accusatory crunching sound of the glass lenses shattering.

She stared down at the dented tube of metal, trying very hard not to picture the state of the one she'd thrown earlier.

_Sorry, Frederick. You can take it out of my earnings. May I borrow your other glass? I promise I'll be careful—more careful—with it._

"Other glass?" Vaike scoffed. "How many of those things do you think—"

With a grim expression, Frederick handed her his extra spare spyglass.

She opened it with exaggerated care, and used it to mark where she hoped she'd be landing.

_Right_. She tucked it into her inner pocket. _We're going with a modified Plan B_.

Robin quickly paired the remaining Shepherds up.

_Sully and Virion, take the western most path. Make sure you clear the area of any hidden soldiers._

_Stahl and Miriel, follow the path on the right side. Mind the mages, and hit them before they hit you._

_Frederick and Vaike, follow behind Stahl. Make sure you do a sweep to deal with any that might remain._

_Sumia and Chrom, follow Sully, but fly along the west ridge instead. Be careful. This will put you closest to their captain. Take him out_.

_Kellam, five steps to the left. After, you'll follow the nearest path up_.

Chrom blinked at her. "What about you?"

Robin sighed, grateful that Kellam had been standing next to her for most of the time. And, more importantly, that it was sunny.

_I'm the modified part of the plan. Meet you there_.

Then, before she could lose her nerve or Chrom could stop her, she aimed for the spot right between shadow and light on Kellam's armor.

The moment she found it, the light seemed to jerk her forward. Robin fixed the image of where she wanted to land in her mind before allowing it to sweep her away.

A confusion of sight and sound swirled in a perfect storm around her. Light bent, twisted, and corkscrewed, but it didn't break.

Ten breaths later, it vomited her out from between the shiny buckles on the robes of a very surprised mage. Robin cradled her tome as she rolled with the fall. Then extended her hand and dealt with the enemy.

Ha ha! She had done it! Light may not be her ally yet, but they had finally moved up to passing acquaintances.

"Robin." Maribelle eyed her with concern. "Are you all right? You have the most deranged look on your face."

"Wow, Robin! How'd you do that?" Ricken asked, his eyes nearly as large as his hat.

Ricken.

Robin glared at him. _If you intend to disobey orders again in the future, kindly run_ away _from the enemy's stronghold_.

Ricken started to puff up with indignant defiance when Robin cut him a look that made him reconsider. Once she was certain he would comply without complaint, she nodded.

_You owe Frederick two new spyglasses once we return to Ylisstol. Now both of you follow me and do what you can to defend yourselves_.

"Fine." Ricken's sullen expression was mostly hidden under his hat. "Let me just grab Winter."

Robin froze. Of course. He'd not only run off in the wrong direction, but he'd brought along a horse as well. The creature's only saving grace at the moment was that its coat was a bright, clear white that might have been lovely if it had been anything less equine.

"Oh, good!" Maribelle declared with breathless ecstasy. "I've missed you so, my darling!"

To Robin's horror, the healer actually nuzzled her face against the horse's. She took a step back as she tried to force the fear away—

—Only to refocus when a spell singed her sleeve in passing. If the mage had had a better aim, she'd have been spending the next month or two regrowing her eyebrows.

Not something she wanted to repeat.

But it brought to mind the memory of the eastern quarter of Themis.

She faced the two Shepherds they'd come to rescue. _We're going to empty this mountain of enemy combatants. Follow me_.

While Robin might not agree with Emmeryn's conclusions, she couldn't fault her reasoning either. Reparations could never truly replace what had been lost. Demand too many of them, and you end up warring with each other anyway.

But right here, right now, she was going to ensure that the people of Themis had time to mourn in peace—and that there would be no further cause to mourn. At least for the time being.

An ax wielding soldier rushed toward her, the wyvern skull and skin he'd fasted to his head and across his shoulders grinning in an awful parody of its living counterparts.

Ricken shouted a warning, but Robin had already impaled the man with Thunder. His blackened fingers still twitched with her magic as she stepped past his corpse.

Anticipation. Anxiety. The exhilaration of a good plan executed well. All the emotions that usually stormed through her fell silent against the quiet rage that stood black as night within her heart.

Humans. Insignificant worms who gloried in slaying one another in their endless games of survival. Didn't they ever grow tired of it? Of the wails of those left behind? Of the fear rabbitting through their beings? Of the iron tainting the air from freshly spilled blood? Of shattered hearts and broken dreams?

What was the point of living if all you did was kill. And slaughter. And plunder that which you had no right to steal?

Robin punctuated each thought with a blast of Thunder.

If they held no value on life, then could their own lives hold any value in the end?

Perhaps that was why they'd turned on each other. Because they saw the emptiness of their existence. The hollow nature of the lies they'd told so often that they could believe nothing else.

Her rage intensified. Burned through grief. And left her with the silent ashes of exhaustion.

She just wanted to lie down. To close her eyes against the blight that was humanity. To end it all, and everything that followed.

"Robin!"

Ricken recoiled as she whipped around to face him. The fear in his eyes pushed back enough of her black apathy to recognize the Shepherd within the boy.

"Y-you've got to s-stop. Let the o-others take care of the r-rest."

_Why?_ The question echoed with a savage edge that frightened her enough to push more of the darkness away.

"B-because," Ricken straightened, gaining courage, "you aren't you right now. And we can't lose you. Not now. Not ever."

She scoffed at him even as the faintest of flutters from her heart peered out through the night. They weren't going to lose her, couldn't he see that? In the end, she would be all that was left.

"Please listen to us, Robin." Maribelle had gone pale, and Ricken's fear was reflected in her own. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but we can—"

The sound of a wyvern screaming its victory right before it killed tore through everything. Robin's attention snapped to the two shapes in the sky.

Chrom.

Between one breath and the next, she seized the closest fiber of light that would bring her to him.

Her body lurched to a sudden stop as she landed with a bone crushing jolt on the back of something neither white nor soft—although it was likely just as fiendish.

And not a Chrom in sight.

There was, however, a Plegian captain.

He shouted his surprise, and then promptly tried to cleave her skull in two. Robin returned the favor, only with a Thunder delivered straight to his heart.

The force of the spell she'd driven through him nearly unseated her, and she scrabbled to grab ahold of anything to stop herself from falling. The wyvern, not insensible to the battle taking place on its back, screamed again and prepared to arrow up further into the sky.

The captain's body slipped from her suddenly nerveless fingers as she blinked at him, uncertain. Then Robin's stomach swooped along with the wyvern, and she managed to catch hold of the reins before she was wrenched off its back.

A terror of such purity wrapped itself around her that everything went blank. She couldn't think. Couldn't plan. Couldn't act.

Every moment became the present as the past and the future stood frozen on either side of her. Squashing her flat. Compressing her existence into two bright points tangled in the reins.

The wyvern, perhaps driven to madness at the loss of its master, or mad from the beginning, pushed itself to its limits as it climbed up the sky. Then, with a scream that nearly shattered Robin's eardrums, it dropped in a tight spiral toward the ground.

The force of their velocity lifted her from the seat. Her legs streamed out behind her, and the only thing that kept her from being ripped away like a leaf caught in a gale were the bits of leather that made up the reins. Tears were pressed from her eyes even as the force from the air made it impossible for her to keep them open.

Pressure built up in her chest, made up of all the breaths she couldn't breathe. Her head had gone pale and white, each sensation crushing her ability to do more than flap like the most useless flag ever in the wake of the wyvern's descent.

A flash of silver appeared out of nowhere and buried itself in the wyvern's side. She could feel the point of contact. Feel the life of the wyvern slipping away.

Something caught hold of her foot, but by this time, Robin could do nothing but hope her end came quickly enough for her to stand a decent chance of overlooking it.

A voice shouted something. Her name perhaps? Something about needing to cut something away . . . ?

Her fingers twitched uselessly. The light was everywhere and nowhere. The shadows were buried too deep to offer any viable alternative. The scent of iron made her already unstable stomach clench—

—And then for one blissful moment, she slipped away from everything—before she was wrenched to one side and then crushed by a field of clover and sunlight that seemed to be whispering her name over and over until Robin finally remembered it herself.

Some dim, faraway part of her was glad she had found her way back. The beginning was where everything started after all . . .

* * *

Frederick was, by all accounts, a fairly patient man.

But one could only set up a tent so many times before the task was complete. Even accounting for the extras.

No matter how much he busied himself, the image of Chrom's face after Sumia had brought them down haunted his every movement.

The stick he'd been shaping for the fire he'd light later this evening snapped in his hands. He tossed the pieces away in disgust. This was to be their second and final day camping near the border.

"Hey there, Frederick!" Sumia greeted him warmly right before her foot caught on a rock he'd somehow missed.

It was but the work of a moment to catch her, but he failed to find the usual comfort this familiarity always brought.

"Are you all right?"

Sumia blushed prettily as she dusted herself off. "I'm right as rain, thanks to you."

He nodded, and the beginnings of a smile curled up the corners of his lips despite his dour mood. "It is always a pleasure to be of assistance."

"You're good at helping everyone," she said as she sat on the log beside him. She plucked a tiny flower from the ground and focused her attention on it while she twisted it through her fingers. "I wish I could be more like you."

"You have many fine qualities of your own," he reminded her, a little less annoyed than he'd been before.

"Ha." Sumia had laughed so faintly that Frederick would never have heard it if he had not spent much of the last fourteen years honing his hearing, thanks to Chrom and Lissa's penchant for sneaking off to find trouble.

Even Frederick had to admit that Chrom had outdone himself this time.

"You are unfailingly kind and generous, with a courage matched only by your heart."

Sumia's blush deepened. "Oh, s-stop it. You're making me sound like some kind of legendary hero or something."

Frederick sighed. The one thing he'd never understood was Sumia's inability to see or believe the good in herself. Then one summer, he had paid a visit to the lands her family owned.

It was easy to see where she got her genuine warmth from. The short time he'd spent with her family was one of his most treasured memories—save for the fact that Sumia had taken the habit of comparing herself to her older sister.

And never once had she found herself on the positive side of the scale.

A direct approach would only mire her deeper in her beliefs. "What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

She shrugged sharply. "Myself, I suppose."

He hummed his agreement before reaching over to untangle the flower stem from Sumia's fingers. "And how would you describe yourself?"

Sumia smiled brightly and moved to stand. "You know, I think I promised someone a blueberry pie. Thank you, by the way, for going to town for the blueberries."

"Sumia."

Her smile only faltered slightly. "I-is that an order, sir?"

"Only if it needs to be."

She sighed as she sat down and pressed her fists against her knees. "I'm just the girl who trips. The girl who thinks she can find the future in a few flower petals. The girl who makes mistakes and messes things up."

Her chin trembled, but she held the tears back by smiling wider.

Frederick wished they were back in Ylisse where he could, so long as he followed the proper protocol, cup her cheek in his hand and catch every stray tear that fell. He hated that she was hurting inside—especially as the things she believed about herself were absolute nonsense. But he could only open the door and show her the way. Whether she chose to walk through it was her decision to make.

Of course, it would have expedited things if he'd had blue hair, a royal brand, and the uncanny ability of being able to break things simply by entering the room.

"You only trip when you're nervous. And, if I am not mistaken, you've been a lot less nervous as of late." Frederick leaned in a little as if to share a secret. "Besides, believe me when I say that you have made nowhere near as many mistakes and messes as Milord and Milady."

"I'm nothing special," Sumia said, her gaze stubbornly aimed at her feet.

"A great number of us would beg to disagree. I wasn't complimenting you earlier. I was simply speaking the truth. And I'm not the only one who feels that way."

"Truly?"

He nodded. "You work very hard to make the Shepherds a family. Most of what you do won't ever been seen by others, but that doesn't make what you do any less important. Look at how you've eased Robin, Donnel, and even Lon'qu's transition into our fold. At least one of them would have been very lost were it not for your thoughtful care."

Pink flooded her cheeks, but she sat a little straighter. "They do seem happier now, don't they?"

"Very."

She nodded before taking a deep breath. "Do you think it would be—that is to say—would you mind terribly if maybe, sometimes, I helped you with the chores around the camp? You do more than any one person should be able to, and I—I want to contribute too."

Frederick smiled at her, pleased she'd noticed. So very few people did. Not that it bothered him. He could not rest in good conscience if he left even a single duty unfulfilled, but it was nice to be appreciated.

"I would be honored."

"Good." Sumia perked up a little bit more, although there was still a wariness about her that told him she wasn't finished with her questions, and that she'd led with the easy one.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Sumia bit her bottom lip, studying him from the corner of her eyes. "There is actually one thing you could do . . ."

"Then, if it is in my power to do so, I will do it."

"I'm glad to hear you say that." Sumia finally made eye contact with him, and Frederick had to admit that he would do anything she asked regardless.

It was a strange sensation, that feeling. Especially as it was in no way at all connected with his charges.

And yet the churning in his stomach warning him he'd just been ambushed was refreshingly familiar.

"I've tried talking to Robin, but she's being unusually stubborn."

Frederick snorted. Robin was ninety-five percent stubborn, with a generous helping of pig-headedness.

And those were her virtues.

"So that's why I'm coming to you, because you're the only other person who can help."

"I'm afraid you overestimate my abilities. I doubt Naga herself could soften Robin's stubborn streak." A little of his earlier ill-humor returned.

Sumia took another careful breath, and Frederick forced his scowl to retreat. No matter his mood, he didn't want to ever be the cause for her distress.

"The, um, unspoken words between the two of you are affecting everyone else, but even if they weren't, I'd still be asking for your help."

With conscious effort, Frederick managed to keep the grumble out of his tone. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

Sumia leaned toward him and put her hand on his. "Would you mind too terribly much just talking to her? I tried to ask her, but for some reason she doesn't think you'll listen to her. And with the wyvern thing and all, she's not supposed to get up much."

Frederick looked at their hands, and a warm kind of lightness filled his chest. Sumia wasn't asking him to gift wrap Robin and leave her next to the flap of Chrom's tent. He could talk to their impossible tactician. There were, after all, a great many things he wanted to say.

"I will speak with her," he promised.

"Oh good!" Sumia let out a breath, and all the stiffness went out of her posture. She reached into an oddly shaped pack she had strapped to her side. "Could you take this with you? Robin keeps mumbling something about blueberry pie, so I thought I'd bake her one."

Frederick narrowed his eyes as he accepted the pie. The aroma of the sweetness of summer enveloped him. "I thought you hadn't made it yet."

Sumia waved her hand. "Oh, you know. While I was making this one, Stahl wandered over. And by the time it had finished cooling, everyone but Lon'qu and the captain were requesting some to go with supper."

Despite his mission, he smiled at Sumia. "There, you see? You're always thinking of others."

"Oh, it's nothing. Just pies." She got to her feet. "Which I should get started on if I want to have them done by supper time."

Frederick stood as well. "And I have a mission to complete." He paused, wondering how far he could step while remaining within the bounds of propriety. "If you have them, cream with lemon zest and walnuts go well with this pie."

Sumia laughed. "We both have our missions! Thanks again, Frederick. I really appreciate it. And I'll see what I can do about the cream."

He nodded and watched her walk back toward the place they'd designated for cooking. She only stumbled once or twice, and didn't fall a single time. An odd sort of pride filled his heart.

He shook his head. He could bask in his feelings later.

The walk from the fire pit to the healer's tent was all at once too short, while being agonizingly long.

That was another thing that drove him crazy about Robin. She created all sorts of paradoxes in her wake without even trying.

"That pie there looks tasty," Lissa greeted him just outside the tent. "Have I told you that you're my favorite person in the whole wide world?"

Frederick snorted respectfully. "I am afraid, Milady, that this isn't my pie to share. However, I have it on good authority that there will be some at supper."

Lissa bounced in place, clapping her hands. "You hear that, Maribelle? We're going to dine like we're at one of the fussiest parties back home!"

Maribelle came out of the tent, her mouth pursed with tight disapproval. "It isn't a proper party without a roof, walls, and fine china, Lissa dear."

Her eyes narrowed when they fell upon him.

"Maribelle."

"I'll not have you upsetting my charge, Frederick. So if you mean to repeat your earlier tirade, you can just turn around right now."

Despite the differences in their ranks, their ages, their height, and their stations, Frederick felt his face heat up with embarrassment. Tirade was a rather strong word for what he'd done. And, true to form, Robin had pretty much missed most of it.

"Sumia asked me to deliver this to Robin and . . . visit with her."

"My earlier statement stands. Upset my charge at your own peril."

She ought to have looked ridiculous standing there in her riding suit, perfectly coiffed, with only her parasol to rely on, but Frederick had seen her express her displeasure with that self-same parasol on many occasions. She had never wielded it against him before, and he wasn't going to give her reason to without good cause.

He nodded.

"Mind watching Robin for a minute, Frederick? We should probably help Sumia with her pies." Without waiting for an answer, Lissa grabbed Maribelle by the arm. "Come on!"

Maribelle grumbled, but allowed herself to be led away.

Frederick steeled himself before lightly tapping the canvas wall of the tent. "I'm coming in, Robin."

To his surprise, she wasn't alone.

Robin was sitting on a low cot staring forlornly at something in her hand while Virion was carefully packing the wooden pieces of his chessboard away.

"Do not fret, ma chérie. Chess is a game that is easy to learn, but difficult to master. You're doing very well for a beginner."

Frustration flashed in her eyes before she surrendered her king.

_Out of ten games, I've only won three—and none of them against yo_ u.

Virion chuckled. "A novice can hardly expect to best a master after only a few games. That is why I invited the captain to come along. It's good for morale."

She grinned. _I'm not sure Chrom shares your sentiment_.

"I do not think it was the activity he came for, but the company." Virion stood and gave Frederick a cheerful bow. "Have you come to challenge Robin to a game? I can leave this with you, if you'd like."

Robin folded her hands in her lap, and was very carefully not looking over at him.

"Thank you for the offer, but I was given strict orders to let her rest."

"Yes," Virion agreed cheerfully. "We heard. Ah well, get your rest while you can, me chérie. You're going to need it if you plan to claim my king."

Virion bowed again before exiting the tent.

Leaving behind, Frederick realized belatedly, an awkward silence.

He held out the pie. "Sumia asked me to bring this to you."

_Thank you_. Robin accepted the pie. She gave it an appreciative sniff before setting it on her cot and covering it carefully with a vividly embroidered handkerchief.

She stood up and carefully bunched her blankets up around the pie before beckoning to Frederick. _I'll meet you around the other side_.

"What?"

Robin gave him a look he couldn't quite decipher. _Outside_.

He opened his mouth to argue, but Robin had already turned away from him and ducked under her cot. Maribelle's warning was still fresh in his mind, so he decided to humor her.

When he met up with Robin, he couldn't help noticing she was straightening a rather large slash cut through the back of the tent.

"Robin."

She whipped around, then relaxed when she realized it was just him. _I found it this way. At worst, I simply unpicked where it had been mended_.

Frederick was well aware. He was, after all, the one who had done the mending. Chrom hadn't enjoyed his time spent in the healer's tent either.

Still, Sumia had asked him to talk to her. He'd given his word, and he wasn't going to disappoint her.

With great effort, he swallowed the reprimand and focused on the present. "You look as though you have mostly recovered."

It had been miraculous, really. After all was said and done, Robin came away from the entire ordeal with two dislocated shoulders and a few shallow cuts on her hands.

Robin nodded absentmindedly. _The area should be clear over this way_.

He crossed his arms. "Aren't you supposed to be resting?"

_Yes, and this is a jailbreak. You're already complicit in aiding my escape, so you might as well go all in_.

"Robin—"

She gave him another expressionless look before she set off in the direction she had pointed.

Frederick sighed. Sumia. He was doing this for Sumia.

They didn't speak as Robin led him to a small clearing not too far from camp. She sat down on a large rock that overlooked a clear stream.

_This should be far enough away_.

A good chunk of his irritation melted away into confusion. "Forgive me, but I fail to understand why we've come here in the first place—beyond escaping from Maribelle."

_They shouldn't be able to hear you if you don't shout any louder than necessary_. She wrapped her arms around her legs and braced herself as if anticipating a sudden storm. _I had Virion verify the results. My calculations are sound_.

Frederick blinked at her. Robin, herself, was nearly always a puzzle to him, but he was usually able to follow the conversation a lot better than this.

"And the reason for my shouting would be?"

Robin sighed, and she looked oddly vulnerable from her perch. _You've been wanting to shout at me for a good long while. So go ahead. Get it all out_.

"Robin, I'm afraid I don't know where to even begin. I'm quite certain that I have not the smallest desire to shout—"

_Start with Chrom, then. And all my evil machinations and designs centered upon him. To what end, well, that's something I would like to know too_.

Frederick frowned. "Milord has nothing too do with this."

Robin glared at him, her gestures sharper and wilder than usual. _Wrong. He has everything to do with this!_

"I'm afraid I don't follow." He set his jaw and refused to look away from her.

_Where is he? Right now?_

"I believe Milord is training and sparring with most of the Shepherds at the moment."

_Precisely_. The knowing look she gave him was a pebble to the boot.

"I fail to see how—"

_You. Aren't. There_.

"Yes," Frederick cleared his throat, not wishing to discuss the minor disagreement he and Chrom had had earlier, "that makes two of us."

_So, about my nefarious designs . . ._

Frederick sighed. Despite his best efforts, Robin seemed oddly determined to goad him into a fight. It was Sumia's smile and her confidence in his abilities that kept him from walking away.

"Very well." He crossed his arms. "If you wish me to be blunt, then I shall accommodate you. What, exactly, are your designs for Milord?"

_That's what I'd like to know!_ Her gestures were getting a little wilder and a little faster. _I've been open about my objectives, but you don't approve. So you seem to be the one with all the answers! So please, tell me what horrible things I've been plotting._

He narrowed his eyes, searching her face for any sign of deception. The line of her shoulders was rigid, but her face was an open book as it always was. Yet the only things he could see were fear, exhaustion, and a valiant effort not to cry.

"Can you tell me, honestly, that you have no designs for Milord?"

She huffed a sigh. _Of course I do, Frederick. It's my job to plan for his safety. I have all sorts of designs. Books full of plans. What I don't understand is why you find my efforts at planning ahead to be some work of villainy. I thought you'd be happy that I consider his safety paramount_.

Perhaps he'd been the one to take a tumble from a wyvern without knowing it, because the longer they talked, the less sense everything made.

"No one said anything about your efforts as our tactician. I thought I made it clear that I have the utmost trust in your abilities so far as you act in that capacity."

Robin threw up her hands, and for an awful moment, he could see the ghost of his spyglass gleaming in the air as it arched away from her hand. _What other capacity is there?_

"You honestly can't—"

_Yes, I can_. Robin pressed a hand to her chest. _What you see is all I am. The Shepherds' tactician. Me. Robin._

The spot behind his left eye began to throb. Was she really going to make him say it out loud? For the first time, he was grateful that they were away from camp. He didn't like to think that Lissa or Sumia might overhear their conversation.

"I'm speaking of your capacity as a woman." He enunciated each word clearly and did his best to ignore the burning in his cheeks.

The look of absolute befuddlement on her face would have been humerous if the topic had been something less serious. Chrom had reached his majority, yes, but he was still quite innocent and naive when it came to the ways of the world. It was on his behalf that Frederick kept a sharp lookout.

And it had worked too, until now.

_I don't have—what the heck is that even supposed to mean?!_

Frederick took another deep breath. Surely not even Robin could play the fool quite so convincingly. "Do you mean to tell me that you have no desire or plan to seduce Milord?"

She furrowed her brow. _Seduce him for what?_

"The power of his station. The proximity to power that his life revolves around."

Robin sat up, no longer looking like a butterfly with crushed wings. _Frederick, I hold the power of life and potential death over every Shepherd every time we do battle. You, of all people, should know how heavy that weight is. Why would I angle for more?_

What was it about Robin that made some of the outrageous things she said always sound so reasonable?

"Because, that's how most humans think."

_I guess I'm not human, then_ , she signed, looking disturbingly untroubled by the idea.

"There is also Milord himself. He is a good man, and handsome and fit, which makes him a fine catch indeed."

_What is he, a fish?_

Frederick paused, the image of Fish-Chrom swimming majestically in a pond appeared in his mind's eye. True to form, the Fish-Chrom was knocking down every pile of pebbles and breaking any ornaments he ran into.

"You have not answered my question. Are you—have you—at any point planned to seduce Milord?"

Robin narrowed her eyes as she thought, then hopped off the rock.

_As a woman?_

He nodded.

Her face scrunched up as she thought a little more. _You mean like this?_

She paced in front of the rock. Her movements had started out normal enough, but with each step, she looked more and more like a rooster suffering from an epileptic fit.

Then she stopped and swished her imaginary skirts before looking over her shoulder and making a face like she'd just been shocked by Thunder.

Repeatedly.

Frederick watched her performance with a kind of incredulous horror. If that was her idea of seduction . . .

Finished with her demonstration, Robin hopped back up onto the rock.

_Sumia told me about a book she'd been reading, and she mentioned something about a milk maid seducing a count. Or was it a duke? Anyway, was that what you meant? Because if it was, then the answer is no. I don't really think I could do that on as regular a basis as the milk maid did without hurting myself. Not even for Chrom._

He should certainly hope not!

Feeling more exhausted than he had in a good while, Frederick sat on the rock beside Robin. Why did it feel as though he had aged so much in a single afternoon?

"You are truly not trying to trap Milord?"

_Trap him? Do you mean like seduc—_

"Yes." Frederick squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered as his mind replayed Robin's—Whatever it was, it was far enough away from seduction to set his mind at ease.

_No_. Robin glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. _That's one part taken care of. How about you address my 'absolute dereliction of duty?' My 'egregious inability to think beyond myself' and 'a lack of care or foresight to the safety of others.' There's also your complaint that 'an idiot would have more sense.' I forgot the part where you were swearing by Naga, and I think you may also have mentioned something about 'moronic suicidal tendencies,' but it all kind of got blurry at that point_.

She pursed her lips, rested her chin against her knees and stared at him, waiting.

"Ah, so you did hear me after all." Frederick sighed. This was turning out nothing at all like he'd thought it would. He hadn't meant to lose his composure at the time, and he certainly hadn't meant to give voice to his opinions quite so vociferously. But when Sumia had brought them down, and Chrom had been nearly bent in two to protect a mostly unconscious Robin . . .

_It would have been hard not to. You were shouting pretty loudly_.

"Yes, I suppose I was." Shame had curled around his temper and dismantled it between one breath and the next. He drew in a deep breath. "May I ask you why you did what you did? Vanishing up half a mountain like that."

_Maribelle and Ricken would not have been able to defend themselves. It was imperative that someone reach them as fast as possible. And while I'm not the ideal candidate for such things, I was better than nothing_.

His chest ached like he'd had his breath knocked out of him. "And you ended up riding a wyvern because . . . ?"

_Chrom was in danger._

She said it so simply that Frederick could only marvel. He could see it now, how absurd his suspicions had been, and yet they had not been wholly without merit.

At least the motivation behind his suspicions.

"That was," he spoke gently now, "in part because of you."

Robin frowned as she sat up. _I was nowhere near—_

"Precisely." Frederick stretched his legs out in front of him while he pieced his thoughts together. "When you race ahead and put yourself in danger, Milord is never far behind. And in his haste, he might miscalculate or miss seeing an enemy combatant altogether. It is really quite dangerous for him."

_I know_. Robin's shoulders slumped. _I was thinking you might put together some sort of obedience training."_

"What is he, a dog?" Frederick quipped. His smile faltered when Robin stared at him like she couldn't believe he'd just made a joke. Despite his reputation, Frederick had an excellent sense of humor and could be downright jolly at times—provided his charges were safe and his duties fulfilled.

Robin shook her head. _Or at least training in restraint and following the plan that the nice tactician spent hours and days drawing up._

"Restraint, I think, is not the issue. To be honest, Milord has exercised far more restraint than I had thought possible."

_I'm at a loss, then. I've tried explaining it to him . . . Maybe if I use pictures . . ._ She put her head in her hands.

Frederick blinked at her as he felt the sudden shift in the conversation. In truth, their "talk" had been careening wildly and veering around hidden corners at such a breakneck speed that it was a wonder they'd arrived together at all.

And to think they had still more yet to go.

Robin, while eccentric, was not stupid. Surely she would see if he just told her.

"I think you need to understand that every time you enter the battlefield, you carry with you Milord's heart."

Robin had the audacity to look at him like _he_ was the one spouting absurdities.

"He would sacrifice himself rather than see any harm befall you," Frederick tried again.

_As tactician, my role is important and valuable, but isn't that being a little melodramatic? That's just Chrom being Chrom. He'd do that for anyone._

Frederick eyed her. How could someone who came up with all the complicated strategies and tactics she used fail to see what was standing right in front of her?

"I believe Milord fancies you," Frederick said, grimacing. By all rights, it ought to have been Emmeryn speaking to Robin, and he fervently wished she had been able to do so.

Especially as he suspected that Chrom felt a great deal more than fancy, but it wasn't his place to pin down his charge's feelings with words.

Robin canted her head to the side as though she couldn't tell whether or not he was being serious. _Are we going back to seduction? Because I'm pretty sure the milk maid said something about fancying the earl. Ha! I remembered! It was an earl, not a duke._

Frederick could only gape at her for a very long moment before all the worry, the stress, and the outright absurdity of the situation congealed together and he started to laugh.

And once he started, he couldn't stop until his ribs were sore and he'd run out of breath.

Robin made a tentative movement toward him before she hopped off the rock with a look of relief.

_Thank you for not shouting at me. I know you were upset._

Frederick shook his head as he stood up and brushed himself off. "I must offer you congratulations. I had never thought I would meet a person thicker in the head than Milord."

Robin's scowl was immediate. _I can't be less intelligent than Chrom. I would know. We've played chess together!_

"I beg you, Robin," Frederick held up his hands as if in surrender, "stop. I am sore enough as it is."

She narrowed her eyes, and he didn't miss the subtle calculation in her gaze. _There is one more thing_.

"Yes?"

_I failed to calculate the wyvern going crazy and falling at speeds of terminal velocity as possible risk factors._ She held out the remains of something that looked suspiciously like the spyglass he'd lent her.

If she'd strapped it to a boulder before rolling down a mountain.

_I'm afraid it's going to be three spyglasses I owe you when we get back_.

Frederick accepted what was left of his spyglass with the gravity the situation merited. He sighed. "Fortunately, I have another."

Robin laughed silently behind her hand. _I knew it! Maribelle's two gold should go a long way to making sure you get the nicest, shiniest spyglasses available_.

Frederick didn't ask. In truth, he really didn't want to know.

_Speaking of, why wasn't I ever issued a spyglass? It could have come in handy before now_.

He glanced at the twisted, dented bits of metal in his hand and then raised a brow at her.

_Fair enough_. Her stomach gurgled loudly. _So, hey. I've got this blueberry pie back at camp . . ._

Frederick tucked his former spyglass into a pouch on his belt. He could bury it later tonight with the other two. "I would be delighted to join you."

He breathed a deep sigh of relief. Now all that remained was to make amends with Chrom. He smiled as they made their way back to camp. Despite witnessing Robin's attempt at being seductive, his shoulders felt as though a great weight had been lifted from them.

Chrom's heart had chosen true, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

War.

They were in all likelihood going to war.

Chrom stared at the fire, but all he could see was his father's face as it grew a little harder each year, until the final time when he hadn't come home at all. His face, when they had presented him to Naga, had looked so peaceful as to be utterly unrecognizable.

But the way the flames flickered made it all too easy to mistake his father's face for his own.

He was vaguely aware someone had sat down beside him, but the thought didn't really register until Robin dumped a field's worth of flower petals in his lap.

_A lot of flowers died for you today_ , she signed once he looked over at her.

"I'm pretty sure I have an alibi," he said as he looked helplessly at the petals. What did she expect him to do with them? "Frederick really hasn't let me out of his sight since this afternoon."

She nodded as she pretended to mull over his words. _Frederick isn't really the straight arrow everyone believes him to be. He helped me break out of the healer's tent this morning. If he's willing to defy Maribelle, is there really anything he wouldn't be capable of doing?_

Chrom chuckled despite himself. It had been a relief, and quite a surprise, when he'd found Robin and Frederick sitting near the fire pit finishing a pie and debating over whether fish or dogs were to be preferred as ruling sovereigns.

He still had no idea how they'd arrived at that particular conversation, but Robin was looking more like herself and Frederick had apologized to him not long after.

A comfortable silence fell between them, but before he could be haunted with images of his father, Robin reached over and placed her hand in his arm.

_You've got a lot of us worried, you know_.

"How so?"

_Lissa told me what Emmeryn said before she left for the capital, and you didn't break a single tree during training_. She glanced at the mound of petals in his lap. _Sumia's flower fortunes were inconclusive_.

Chrom shook his head to clear it. "I've pushed Emm to do something for a long while now, but I think I was secretly hoping she was right. That war could be averted. That the past would have no chance of repeating itself."

Robin nudged his arm with her shoulder. _You can't take_ all _the credit for starting this war_.

"No," he stared at the flames until they'd consumed his field of vision, "but I've finally come to understand what it is I might lose should war befall us."

Robin tugged him to his feet. _Enough glooming at the fire. According to at least two Shepherds, you need to eat. Come on_.

"I did eat, remember?" But he allowed himself to be pulled along.

To Chrom's surprise, Robin led him away from camp and up to the top of a small hill. Night had fallen in earnest, but the hill was above the tree line and drenched with moonlight.

Someone had laid out a small picnic on a blanket he could have sworn was the twin to his own cloak. A few candles had been melted to large rocks that served as rustic candleholders and placed around the blanket.

In the center was a blueberry pie drenched with cream and freckled with walnuts and the tangy smell of lemons.

Chrom went still. "Is that—is someone playing a violin?"

_Virion. He plays rather well from what he's told me_. Robin sat down on the edge of the blanket and sighed. _Odd. No plates_.

He stifled a snort, but Virion was nowhere in sight. He frowned at the candles, and the distinct lack of Shepherds. If he didn't know any better . . .

Robin glanced up at him, and perhaps noting his hesitation, she gestured for him to sit down as well. _Don't worry. Frederick told me under no circumstance was I to try to seduce you. Do you mind if we share the tin? There don't seem to be any plates_.

Chrom coughed on the breath he'd been in the middle of taking when Robin made her declaration. He sat down, a little warier than he'd started, his face and the tips of his ears burning. While he was definitely curious, he really wasn't sure he wanted to know what sort of conversation Robin and Frederick had been having for Frederick to have seen the need to lay down an edict like that. Still, the idea that Robin might return his feelings . . .

"You weren't planning on, er," he cleared his throat, not quite able to get the word out, "doing anything like _that_ , were you?"

Robin raised a brow as she handed him a spoon and the pie. _Seduce you?_ She shook her head. _I don't think I'm put together right for that sort of thing. Frederick seemed to agree_.

Chrom's eyes widened as he choked on the bite of pie he'd swallowed wrong. Perhaps Robin had hit her head during her impromptu wyvern ride and Maribelle and Lissa had missed it somehow.

Either that or Frederick had.

"So you, um, put all of this together?"

Robin smiled and nodded. _The others helped, of course. The picnic was your sister's idea though_.

He bet it was. Still, it was nice sitting up here with Robin. Everything had been silvered by the moonlight, and the night was so peaceful that, for the moment, he could forget about war and fighting—all of it. The hilltop became the world, and they were the only two people in it.

"What's the occasion, if you don't mind me asking?"

_I wanted to thank you. For, well, everything. You could have left me—in the field, at the stables—but you chose not to_. Robin's smile softened and she gestured to the pie. _Also, I wanted to know why Frederick had to go to town a second time for the cream and the lemons_.

"Frederick did that?"

Robin nodded. _You said this has sentimental value, and I can't understand the word if I don't know the meaning_.

Chrom blinked as his earlier surprise and wariness melted away. "You remember that?"

She tapped the side of her head with a finger. _I remember everything you've ever said to me_.

He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. When he'd told her that, he'd been in a mild state of panic. Hopefully this time around no one else would pop up.

"My father was away a lot, especially toward the end of the war. And after my mother died . . . Even at a young age, Emm took me and Lissa under her wing."

_I'm glad she was there for you_.

So was Chrom. It hadn't been until the day before that he'd realized how grateful he was for Emm's gentle, but stalwart, presence in his life. She had been the constant for goodness in his life. And as far as he was concerned, it was she who was the greatest treasure of Ylisse.

"We'd go to the tree when we could. But when we couldn't, or when missing them became too hard, Emm came up with a way to ease the heartache."

_Blueberry pie_. Robin glanced down at the tin.

"The heirs of Falchion have all resembled the Hero King, as well as the first Exalt of Ylisse." Chrom laughed a little self-consciously. "The crust was Ylisse and all her people, while the blueberries represented all the heroes who were born of the exalted line."

Robin smiled, and the moonlight seemed to strike her in such a way that she seemed to be gleaming. _I like that_. Her smile turned mischievous. _I would have thought the nuts represented the people_.

Chrom's mouth had gone dry, and it took him a few moments to remember what they'd been talking about. "The walnuts were our hardships and a witness of our strength that came from allowing the seed to grow. And the cream, the sweetness and good things in life."

Had she always glowed when the moon came out? At some point, Virion had stopped playing, and the only sound beyond their breathing was the muted chirps of insects.

_And the lemon zest?_

"That came later when Lissa wanted something representative of her hair too."

Even her eyes seemed to be reflecting the moonlight, and he was struck once more by her beauty. Her heart had a way of spilling out across her face and into her fingers, and it changed the world wherever it fell.

His heart pounded as a warmth filled his chest. He wanted nothing more than to gather her in his arms and watch the sky until the stars burned out. To whisper promises, to tell her what his heart was carving into the underside of his ribs.

But what if she wasn't ready? What if handing her his heart frightened her enough to make her run? Emm had counseled him that flowers must bloom in their own time. To force the blossom was to destroy the flower.

Yet when they'd danced in the courtyard, still dripping from their forray with the fountain, when he'd thought to express his heart, she hadn't looked away.

Instead, she'd locked her gaze with his. She'd stared into his heart then, and she hadn't backed away. She'd leaned into him.

Something had changed in that moment, or perhaps that was simply the moment when he'd first realized that things were different somehow.

_They_ were different somehow.

With all his attention focused on Robin's face, he didn't even realize he'd taken her hands in his until her curling her fingers between his as they entwined sent little shots of . . . something warm and wonderful pinging up into his arms.

Her eyes were deep enough to drown in, but the deeper he fell, the more his fears and trepidation were sheared away, until all that was left was a simple declaration written into every beat of his heart.

"I love you."

The words were carried from his breath to hers. And then there was no more distance between them.

Her eyes fluttered closed first, and her lips were surprisingly soft. The zings in his arms were nothing compared to the feeling of his lips pressed against hers. She tasted of sweetness and moonshine, and when they parted long enough to catch their breath, he could only stare in wonder.

Robin's eyes crinkled a little as she smiled at him with the same sort of stunned expression reflected in her eyes. Her fingers ghosted up to her lips, pulling his along with them.

_I love you too_ , she mouthed. She looked dazed. As if her words had all changed shape unexpectedly, shifting everything else along with them.

The world took on a dream-like quality while, at the same time, it seemed to firm up as the foundations all fell perfectly into place.

Not willing to leave things to chance, he sealed her words with a kiss and a promise of his own—

—only to jump back as a cry of triumph sounded off somewhere in the distance.

"Wooooohooooooo!"

"What on earth—?"

Robin ducked her head and untangled their fingers long enough to say, _I'm fairly certain Frederick has a second spare extra spare spyglass which he may, or may not, have given to your sister. Likely under duress_.

Chrom sighed. Lissa would have found out at some point anyway.

But all of this was still new enough that he wanted to savor every moment before the real world intruded once more.

"Help me plan my revenge?"

Robin laughed, and eternity narrowed itself down to one bright point.

_Always_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out to be a celebration of the interrobang—a quirky, often maligned puctuator, who does double duty! 
> 
> I hadn’t expected Robin to be quite so scared of the horses and was surprised until I saw the part of her backstory that this chapter hinted at. (Apologies, but there will be more information about it. Just not quite yet.)
> 
> And yay, Chrom! He finally got to spend some time with Robin in his arms. On a horse. Surrounded by the Shepherds. Racing to the border. *sorry Chrom*
> 
> So, ah ha ha. About Robin’s backstory. It’s coming. It’s just going to come in bits and pieces—the same way she’s receiving it. When I started writing this, I wasn’t sure how it was going to manifest itself other than a few of the things we’ve already seen and dealt with. I wasn’t expecting her to go all Grima on the Plegians, but yeah. She went there. O.O What she couldn’t see, and Ricken and Maribelle didn’t have time or bravery to comment on, was that her eyes had gone red, some purple-ish marks had appeared on her face, and she got exponentially scarier. So, yeah, make her angry at your own peril, I guess. :p
> 
> In the future, as well as now, Sumia is going to be very helpful about offering advice in matters of romance. Fortunately, Chrom already loves Robin, and will continue to do so even if she ever goes full seduction on him. (Note: Fade to black is the closest this story will ever come to actual seduction. I don't really count Robin's version as anything close to the real thing, but wanted to be clear. :D)
> 
> And poor Frederick! My heart went out to him this chapter. Somewhere, in a quiet forest near the border, lies the remains of four spyglasses. They had been unfailing in their duty, and had served Frederick well for many years.
> 
> Until Robin came into the picture.
> 
> RIP sweet spyglasses. You will be missed. :S
> 
> Ha ha! So . . . about Chrom. :p
> 
> The really crazy thing is, the "almost kiss" of last chapter was a million times harder to write. I'm pretty sure that out of the three of us (me, Chrom, and Robin), I was the one blushing the most, looking awkwardly away the most, and gack! Which is probably why I didn't realize the kiss was going to happen in this chapter until they were up on top of the hill and Chrom couldn't take his eyes off Robin. And then it was there, and, yeah.
> 
> Gack!
> 
> So, this was for all of you who have been patiently waiting for something--anything--to happen, romantically speaking. Frederick & Co. gift wrapped Robin and left her on the top of a hillside for Chrom. :p
> 
> So, Team Fish or Team Dog? Personally, I'm in the latter camp. Dogs can visit water and usually be just fine. The same cannot be said for fish, in the reverse. Also, while a Chrom-Fish's scales would likely be prettier than fur, fur is more cuddly. :)


	30. Chapter Twenty Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. Except for the really weird parts. Those are probably me.

The most irritating thing about having her voice bound wasn't that her hands had to be free and people had to be looking at her if she wanted to communicate.

That was simply annoying.

No, what bothered Robin the most was that she couldn't hum. It just wasn't the same to hum in her head, no matter what she tried to tell herself.

"You appear to be more agitated than normal," Miriel remarked. She paused, her quill above the parchment she'd been writing on for most of the morning while everyone else was striking camp. "Is this perhaps the product of engaging in an exchange of mutual affection, or, in a related vein, perhaps an increase in agitation is a byproduct of the resulting absence that occurs as it is impossible to sustain that sort of exchange indefinitely."

Robin's cheeks went hot. _What? No. At least I don't think so. I just miss humming_.

"Hmmm." Miriel eyed her for a long moment before she continued writing. "Would you say that your temperament naturally supports humming or is this a recent development—the desire, not the lack of capability?"

_I—_ Robin blinked. _I don't know, actually_. She shook her head. _But that isn't why I'm here_.

"Oh?"

_I was wondering if you could help me with a few things_.

Miriel's face softened slightly as she smiled. Well, on anyone else it would have been a faint upward curve in one corner of her mouth. This being Miriel, it was tantamount to a big, toothy grin.

"Are your requests of a personal nature or one involving the Shepherds?"

_Both?_

Horsefeathers. Normally talking to Miriel didn't require anything other than paying a little more attention to understand what she was saying, but the mage might as well have been speaking an obscure Plegian dialect for all the sense she was making.

Miriel put down her quill and capped her bottle of ink. Then she focused all of her attention on Robin. "I'm listening."

Robin gave her a weak smile. From just about everyone else, receiving the entirety of their attention was a good thing. Desirable, even. It was just that Miriel had an awful lot of attention to give, and Robin was beginning to feel like a bug being studied under of one Miriel's special lenses.

_I was wondering if you would be able to modify some spyglasses for me, once I acquire some more. Frederick is all out_. And had been morose all morning after Lissa gotten up the gumption to confess there had been a minor accident involving her, a tree, and the last of his spyglasses.

"What did you have in mind?"

_Ideally, I would like to be able to see at a glance what I'm dealing with. What sort of combatants are among the enemy forces. That sort of thing_.

"I see." Miriel pursed her lips. Was it Robin's imagination, or did the mage look a little disappointed. "Is that all?"

_Well_ , Robin ducked her head, _it would be nice if the glasses had a way of estimating how skilled and fit each combatant is, but that's probably just—_

"Ah." Impossibly, Miriel smiled for the second time in a handful of minutes. "Such an exercise in the practical application of the theoretical would be invigorating. I am happy that I was correct in my initial assessment of the qualities integral to your being."

How to respond to that?

_Yay?_

"Indeed. Am I correct in assuming that I will have a large degree of latitude in the modification process, as well as with the types of modifications themselves?"

Robin nodded. _Just keep me up to date. Also, if it isn't too much trouble, it would probably make Frederick happy if you could find a way to make the spyglasses a little more . . . robust_.

Miriel gave her a knowing look, but nodded. "And your other requests?"

Robin's gaze darted about, but all of the Shepherds looked to be otherwise engaged, and no one was near enough to overhear their conversation.

_I'd like to keep these two items off the books_. Robin did her best to look trustworthy and confident.

"I . . . see. Discretion is not a problem, provided your requests don't require skirting any laws or ordinances."

_Oh, no!_ _Nothing like that!_ Robin hurried to assure her, feeling every bit the criminal she very well might have been. _While they'll help me personally, they'll also be a benefit to the Shepherds_.

When Miriel didn't react, she went on, _I was wondering if there were any potions or concoctions that could help keep people stay awake if they, perhaps, weren't able to sleep as much as they might need_.

"A stimulant rather than something to depress your mind," Miriel murmured, practically beaming.

Yes, it was entirely possible that Robin might have been a criminal before the amnesia hit. Still, there was one thing left to inquire after—it being the most important of the lot.

_And if there might be something that could interfere with the bindings that have locked away my voice_.

"Ah."

Robin frowned. _What, 'Ah'?_

"You would have been forgiven if your third request had been your first."

_Forgiven?_ A jolt of panic zigged through her. Was there some social taboo she hadn't known about?

Miriel blew on her parchment before rolling it up and slipping it up her sleeves. "Your third request is natural. My surprise is that it has taken you this long to ask if such a thing is possible."

_Is it possible?_ Robin pressed a hand to her heart. She had never noticed before how much hope could hurt.

"Possible? Very likely. The question is rather one of probability, and one I very much look forward to researching."

She let out a sigh of relief. It was all right, then. _Thank you, Miriel_.

"It is I who should be thanking you." The mage rummaged through her sleeves before she pulled out a small packet of papers. "If you have time, would you be willing to fill out a few forms?"

_Like a receipt for the work you'll be doing on the spyglasses and potions?_

"No, not at all." Miriel readjusted her spectacles and ran her fingers along the brim of her hat. "I am doing some research to find objective markers that could be used to serve as indicators for the viability of human affection. I am in the process of drawing up the means whereby I might separate my findings into their individual biological, chemical, and magical components. It is my hope that my findings will aid in assessing compatibility between two parties in a more reliable manner than the more conventional methods in present use."

_So . . . fill out some forms? I'd be happy too_. Robin's brain hurt as it tried to process Miriel's explanation. By the time she and Chrom had ambled back into camp, her mind had gone wide awake, making it impossible to get any sleep.

And then the new day had come, and all those things they'd said that had felt as natural as breathing, suddenly weren't. Most of the morning had consisted of Robin ducking and dodging at least half of the Shepherds while trying to get things done.

To be fair, Chrom had been doing his own amount of dodging with less than successful results, and each collision resulted in a deeper, brighter blush than the one preceding it. And while Robin felt a certain empathetic twinge for him, she couldn't deny that she also derived a certain amount of pleasure seeing the normally unflappable Chrom turning bright red.

"Ah, here you two are. Frederick wanted to let you know that we're ready to go and are about to leave." Lissa beamed at them, but thus far seemed to be as free of frogs as she ever was.

Robin sighed, her perfect record blighted. Then sighed again as she remembered the necessity of traveling quickly had meant they'd left the supply wagons behind.

Frederick had been right. There was no way she could outrun a horse.

"Then let us depart," Miriel said, an unusual bounce in her step as she strode off in the direction Lissa had come from.

_Could I have whatever you gave me on the way out?_ With all the butterflies and dragons rampaging her stomach, Robin didn't feel up to dealing with the horses if she didn't have to.

"Aw, where would the fun be in that?" Lissa latched onto her arm, pulling her toward the others. "Besides, we're walking for a while, so we can stay toward the back where the horses aren't."

For some reason, that didn't reassure Robin in the slightest.

When they reached the others, everyone was already in place, and Frederick gave the signal for them to proceed. Chrom was at the front of the column, and all she could see of him was the occasional flutter of his cloak.

Relief and disappointment fought for dominance.

"Don't worry, Robin," Lissa leaned in close as though they were co-conspirators. Which, in a way, they were. "Chrom's just a little flustered that everyone already knew about the two of you. He hasn't really ever courted anyone before, so he's kind of winging it right now."

Robin froze. _Wait. Everyone?_

Lissa nodded cheerfully and tugged on her arm to get her moving again. "Why'd you think we were all pitching in last night?"

Robin blinked as her thoughts desperately tried to rearrange themselves around this new information.

_I thought we were trying to cheer Chrom up and distract him from what had happened with the King of Plegia_. That had been the goal, hadn't it?

Lissa snorted. "Please, Robin! A moonlit picnic for two with candles and Virion serenading you with his violin? In what world would that be considered anything _but_ courting?"

The things Lissa had said were making a kind of sense that upset the delicate balance between butterflies and dragons in her stomach.

She hadn't gone intending to declare anything, and she certainly hadn't imagined they'd do anything more than just talk. In truth, she'd been worried about Chrom and confused with her own heart. Only to find out that she'd apparently neglected to pay adequate attention to everything else.

Lissa frowned at her. "Are you having second thoughts? Because I can promise you Chrom wouldn't have reacted the way he did if he didn't mean it. Frederick's run off tons of girls over the years, and Chrom hasn't ever seemed to notice."

_No, nothing like that_. Robin bit the insides of her cheeks as the butterflies all swarmed together to take out the dragons one by one.

"Did you mean it? What you said?"

One of the things that had confused Robin the most were the results of her Vanishing experiments. Marth had basically told her that the light would try her heart before it became her ally.

That the light would take her to wherever her heart was.

And both times she'd managed to step between light and shadow, the path had taken her directly to Chrom. Or his general vicinity.

Robin nodded, and some of the wonder from the night before stirred in her heart, emphasizing the truth of her answer. She cupped her hands around that feeling and drew it in close to herself, marveling at the simple beauty and the newness of the thing.

"Ha! That's what I thought. So why do you look like you just ate something Sully cooked? Isn't finding true love supposed to make everything bright and happy and pink?"

_Pink?_

Lissa waved a hand. "Not _pink_ , pink. Just, you know . . . pink. Shouldn't you two be making sappy faces at each other so the rest of us can tease you without mercy?"

_I think_ , Robin turned the puzzle over in her mind, slowly drawing out meaning a bit at a time from the tangled mess, _that the enormity of it is what makes it so . . ._

Her fingers twitched, but she couldn't find a word adequate to describe the terror and the exhilaration that was akin to jumping off the side of a mountain and trusting that you could fly—even though you had no wings. No experience. And nothing more to go off of than a quiet certainty that you wouldn't simply fly, but soar.

Except . . .

Robin's steps slowed as another thought took her.

_The court will never accept the match_. All the reasons she'd tried to extinguish this fledgling little feeling before came crashing down on her in a frigid wall of horror and recrimination.

How could she, tactician that she was, have forgotten that single, essential fact?

"Is _that_ what you're worried about?" Lissa laughed. "You may not have noticed, but my dear dunder head of a brother can be stubborn when he needs to be. You're family. Getting married just makes it official."

Robin stumbled to a stop as she contended with this new piece of information. It made perfect sense in her mind. Courtship was obviously a prelude to a lifetime of love and commitment.

Marriage.

Her heart, on the other hand, was still trying to parse the meaning and likely fallout from even harboring those feelings in the first place. It was one thing to know the name of a thing, and something else altogether to understand its nature.

To hear it out loud, where anyone might overhear, suddenly made it seem more real than ten mad kings and a herd of stampeding horses. Throw in the odd pegasus, and, well . . .

"Keep breathing, Robin," Lissa instructed as she pulled her along. "Sheesh! The two of you are lucky you have the rest of us looking out for you. Otherwise you'd still be stuck sneaking glances at each other when you think no one's looking—even though everyone is."

. . .

Robin flipped her hood over her head and pulled it down low so she could quietly die of mortification in the privacy of her own coat.

What was she doing? How could she be so certain it was love she felt, yet she knew next to nothing about how love and courtship worked?

Though she'd only been with the Shepherds for a short time, she had started to understand family. Family was a sort of love that bound you close. You might drive each other crazy, slip frogs into each other's bedrolls, but at the end of the day, they were the people you gathered round the fire.

But this love that turned into dragons and butterflies by turn?

Robin pressed her fingertips against her lips. In a world awash by moonlight, wasn't it possible that all of this—the promises, the unexpected comfort in resting at his side—was nothing more than a dream? Despite how familiar he'd felt all along, in many ways, they were still strangers.

Chrom couldn't love her, not truly, could he?

But even as the question came, she already knew the answer. The thing that had prompted her to keep hold of his hands, to allow the few, brief kisses they'd shared, had been the way his heart had revealed itself in his eyes.

For better or worse, he'd offered his heart in exchange for the one he'd already stolen.

And Robin had no intention of ever giving it back.

* * *

"Are you certain, Milord?" Frederick didn't exactly sound unhappy, but it was clear from his carefully blank expression that he didn't approve.

"I am."

Chrom had thought long and hard the night before, and the entirety of the first leg of their march, especially as they were nearing the next closest village.

War was looming on the horizon. The King of Plegia could not be counted on to act in good faith. Could not be counted on to see things as a sane man would.

Emm would act, now that she'd seen a small part of her people's suffering outside of sterile reports. Fifteen houses lost, twenty-three small shops, four fields, three orchards, and seventeen casualties were little more than facts and figures that were to be balanced against those things that had stayed her hand before.

It was a different thing, choking on the ash, walking into the devastation, and doing what you could to patch up the survivors while restraining yourself from offering empty promises and vain hopes. Having to look into the eyes of those who had lost things—people—that could never truly be recovered.

At least not in this life.

"Surely now is not the time to delay, what with all that needs doing to prepare—" Frederick pressed his lips together, no doubt remembering a long ago time when he was a handful of summers younger than Chrom was now.

Chrom shook his head, a quiet fury burning bright within his heart. "Ylisse is not prepared for war, but war is coming regardless. Now is exactly the time to do this. We won't be given another chance."

Frederick sighed as he looked over the list of villages Chrom had given him. "You mean to visit all of them?"

"As many as we can. We need more warriors. The Feroxi troops will help, but we hadn't been looking at a full-fledged war when we solicited their aid." His father's shadow had fallen over Ylisse long before the man himself had fallen for the final time. "I'll not have people dragged from their homes, from the arms of those they cherish. If they come, _when_ they come, it must be of their own accord."

"And if they don't rally to our banner?"

"I believe they will. Who better to fight for Ylisse than those whose home it is?"

Frederick sighed. "The scars from the last war run deep. People will not have forgotten."

"That's what I'm counting on." Chrom glared at the ghostly shapes of broken soldiers that haunted his memories every so often. "I want them to see the difference, to let go of my father's memory enough that they can stop seeing him in Emm's shadow or in mine."

"Ah." Frederick absentmindedly patted Quicksilver's neck when she nudged him from behind. "You mean to show them."

"Not only them." It took nearly all of his discipline not to look back under the pretext of including all the Shepherds in his statement. The others had been good natured in their teasings, but it was a warm day and Robin had taken refuge in her coat a while ago. "It's easier to do what's required if we remember what it is we're fighting for. Something to hold onto when the way becomes more difficult."

They walked in companionable silence for a time, the jingle of the horses' harnesses and the low murmur of conversation the only sounds along this stretch of the road.

Deciding to make the most of the quiet, Chrom glanced over his shoulder. Robin was still at the back of the column, although she had gone mostly invisible save for her coat. He envied his little sister her place next to Robin, and wished, for a moment, that they were back on the hilltop in the moonlight. Just the two of them. As the captain, it was his duty to lead. Additionally, he wanted to personally be certain there was a large enough gap between the horses and his tactician.

Maribelle had been especially displeased that she'd had to choose between her mount and her best friend, but the blisters she'd earned half an hour into the march had made the decision for her. Even now, Chrom could feel the bite of her glower despite the number of horses between them.

"If I may, Milord . . . I would not worry overmuch. Robin has proven remarkably difficult to seriously injure and is far too stubborn to die."

Chrom laughed softly and shook his head, his ears burning. "Am I that obvious?"

"To everyone but Robin."

His blush deepened as he glanced back again. She was still walking with her hood drawn down over her face. It was a minor miracle that she hadn't stumbled or run into anything yet.

Chrom moved to rest his hand on Falchion out of habit, then remembered he wasn't exactly 'speaking' to her at the moment. He'd made the mistake of doing so shortly after they'd left their campsite.

The vision of Robin and their son had swept through him without warning. The entire thing had been so vivid that he'd almost believed that all he had to do was reach out to catch their hands in his.

But what had hit him like the underside of a mountain were the feelings that came along with it this time. The intensity of the love, the devotion, had nearly blindsided him before Frederick's voice had pulled him back into the present. Even so, the vision had left its mark, honing his instinct to protect into tempered steel.

He could feel Falchion waiting. Watching his every movement. Divining through any stray thoughts that escaped him. She had never been quite so . . . meddlesome before. It was as though she, along with the rest of his world, had changed shape when he wasn't looking.

The only problem was that without Falchion to distract him, the empty Robin-shaped space beside him was feeling emptier. It had been nice, staring up at the stars together, dreaming. His arm ached with the memory of how comfortable it felt when she was curled up beside him. It had come as a bit of a surprise that much of Robin's apparent mass wasn't hers at all, but that coat of hers.

"I believe we turn up here." The low rumble of Frederick's voice pulled Chrom out of his memories and back to the road they'd been following since morning.

Chrom allowed himself one last hopeful glance, but Robin remained cocooned in her coat.

"We are in agreement, then?"

Frederick nodded and tucked the list away into his armor. "I'll make arrangements at the inn to send word back to Ylisstol for our supply wagons. We'll have to make do with what we have for the time being, but that shouldn't be a problem."

"Thank you, Frederick. We all would have been at an extreme disadvantage without you. You have been a tireless force for good."

Frederick narrowed his eyes, but couldn't quite hide the shadow of a smile tucked into the corner of his lips. "I do nothing more, and nothing less, than my duty requires."

Chrom shook his head, stopped with his hand midair, and dropped it to his side. If there was one thing that was a complete stranger to Frederick, it was moderation.

Which was, by turns, standing right next to reasonable expectations.

"Hey, Captain," Sully called. "You expecting us to march all day on an empty stomach?"

"It would not be unwise to hold council before we reach the village," Frederick murmured.

Chrom nodded and handed Frederick all of his leads. "While you see to the horses, I'll catch everyone up on our new mission."

His fingers grazed Falchion before he remembered, and for one breathless heartbeat, a whisper of the future jolted through his center.

"You all right?" Sully dismounted and led Brazen Thunder over to him. "You look like you just got hit in the face with a rock."

Despite knowing it would be folly—especially with Sully standing right in front of him—despite telling himself he wouldn't, his gaze slid over to Robin for a fraction of a second. It had just been a flicker, but from the way Sully was grinning at him, it had been a flicker too long.

"Nah." Stahl joined them. "That's what he looked like when he put a hole in the wall. Remember?"

Sully snorted while Vaike and most of the others laughed.

"The captain put a hole in a wall?" Donny asked, his eyes wide with what could have been admiration.

"That's my big brother for you," Lissa said with a breezy grin. She reached over and flicked Robin's hood off her head. "Luckily his noggin's harder than stone."

Vaguely, Chrom was aware she'd said something else, but the moment Robin's startled glance met his, the world narrowed itself down to a single point.

Her hair, a little longer than it had been when they'd first met, had formed a loose chestnut halo around her head. Her eyes, impossibly, glittered with starlight, and a light rose tinted her cheeks, steadily growing darker.

"I . . . I . . ."

"Yes, Chrom," his sister jabbed him in the side with her bony little elbow, "we already _know_. Are we stopping to eat?"

"Food sounds good," Stahl said right as his stomach growled.

"Teach wouldn't mind some grub."

"You are so vulgar, Vaike," Maribelle scoffed. "Would it _kill_ you to appropriate at least a semblance of manners?"

"You can stop right there, 'cause Teach is always appropriate."

"Appropri _ate_ , not appro _pri_ -uht, you simpleton."

Chrom shook his head, feeling as though he was coming out of a daze.

"If anyone's the simpleton, it's the person using the same word twice."

"I am most assuredly not—"

"While there is a slight deviation as to how each word is vocalized, the key difference between the two is found in their linguistic designations—"

A flash of light was their only warning before a smaller version of a Thunder zigged into the ground hard enough to make the earth beneath them shift underfoot.

Robin's face had gone pale, and she stared at her hand as though she wasn't entirely sure it belonged to her. The Shepherds, meanwhile, had all frozen in place, their eyes wide.

Chrom's laugh was only slightly forced. "Thanks, Robin. Now that I have all of your attention, there's something you need to know before we go to the village."

He paused long enough to make certain he had their attention. Robin had gone from shocked to horrified, judging by the crimson in her cheeks, but everyone else had their eyes on him.

"War is coming. There is nothing we can do but prepare. As strong as we are, we can't take on an entire country on our own. We will be visiting as many villages as we can on the way home. My hope is to inspire those who can to stand with us and fight for our country, and our homes. Either way, we'll spend a few days helping them learn how best to defend themselves."

"Is there really nothing else we can do?" Lissa asked, clutching her staff. For a moment, she looked very much like Emm had when she had been officially crowned the new Exalt.

Frederick and Sumia joined them, equally quiet and somber.

"Not when the King of Plegia wants war." Chrom shook his head, regret for every life that would be lost to such senseless bloodshed. "The best we can do is end things quickly. Thanks to Emm, we won't be in as bad a position as we might have been otherwise."

None of them could have imagined how great their need would be once it had been decided they would travel to Regna Ferox. The concerns he'd had then seemed like such simple and small things comparatively.

"What do you need from us, Captain?" Sumia asked, her gaze bright and steady.

"To be your best selves." Chrom waved his hand to include them all. "To show our people who we are, and to inspire them to the same."

Stahl half raised his hand. "To be clear, we're still going to get to eat soon, right?"

Chrom looked each and every Shepherd, minus his tactician, in the eye. The ghost of a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth. It usually fell to Frederick to remind them that the world wasn't their barracks. "Provided you can all behave yourselves. How each of you comport yourselves could help tip things in a favorable direction for Ylisse. I know I don't need to remind you of the particular obstacle we face."

A somber silence fell over them.

One day, Chrom promised them all silently, one day his father would be finally—properly—laid to rest. Only then could Ylisse find the hope in the promise Emm was so determined to give them daily.

One day soon, peace would win out.

* * *

The village was nearly the same size as Southtown, but quieter, grimmer, despite none of its buildings being devoured by flame.

But from the look of the timber, the fresh thatching, and brightly colored buildings, Robin was fairly certain that many of the shops and houses they passed were only a few years old at most.

And yet there was something, a glimmer, or perhaps a bright shadow that teased the corners of her eyes. Whenever she focused her attention on something, its lines seemed to thicken as if to underscore the dignity of its existence.

She frowned as she followed at the heels of the Shepherds. The spark, or whatever it was that plucked the edges of her vision, wasn't found in the lines of bright buildings, nor the neat and tidy shrubs that lined the road they followed to the inn. It wasn't in the stones that had been cunningly fit together to give the illusion that the road had been carved from the mountains themselves.

The few people that were out moved briskly, nodding to their neighbors, but never stopping along the way. The murmurs of their voices, even in the center of the village, were soft and wind-swept. The edges of their conversations lacking a sharp distinctness that caused their words to curl in upon themselves.

Robin narrowed her eyes as she studied every bit of the village she could see. Beyond whatever it was that stubbornly remained out of sight, there was something off. Something missing.

But what?

And why did she feel so unsettled? She rolled her shoulders against a prickly feeling in the center of her back. Like someone was glaring at her with such an intensity that—

Her concentration broke as something familiar drew the shape of her arm out from a wandering abyss. She put a hand to her cheek, as though she could mute the color and still the burning.

"Are you all right?" Chrom murmured.

Robin nodded. A more normal part of herself took satisfaction in the rosy glow in his face, but his answering blush sent butterflies dashing through her center and tangling her breath as it reached her lungs.

She glanced around once more, noting a few trees decorating the village square, and a small fountain that stood proudly in the center.

"You wandered off," Chrom explained. His gaze was like candlelight. Flickering here, now flickering there. Robin would have teased him if she hadn't fallen victim to the same malady.

What was wrong with her?

Not since she'd woken in the field had she felt so flustered. And why couldn't she meet Chrom's gaze? His face was nice to look at—especially his eyes—and she'd never had a problem looking at him before.

To hear Lissa tell it, practically all they ever did was look at each other. So why were they struggling to do so now?

Not knowing what else to do, Robin nodded.

She hadn't thought anything could be worse than fighting the compulsion to look away, even as she tried to study Chrom's expression to maybe glean a clue or two as to what he was thinking, but she was wrong.

He swallowed hard and returned her nod, and in that moment, an awkward silence fell over them. There were a hundred things she wanted to tell him, and a hundred more questions she wanted to ask, and yet as soon as she moved to sign them, her mind went distressingly blank.

The only time it had ever felt this blank was that horrible moment when they'd asked her what her name was, and there had been no answer to that question stored in her mind.

Chrom cleared his throat and glanced away from her just as she glanced at him. He cleared his throat a few more times, but each time she thought he might have figured out a way to break the silence, he blush deepened, and he looked anywhere but at her.

While uncomfortable, Robin didn't start to panic until she noticed the magic nipping at her fingers. She curled her left hand into a fist and shoved it into her pocket. She still had no idea how she'd thrown an abbreviated version of Thunder into the center of the semi-circle the Shepherds had formed, and had no memory of even calling it into existence. Chrom had stressed they needed to be on their best behavior, and there was no telling what—

"The innkeeper has a small spread prepared if you're hungry," Chrom murmured to his left foot as they stepped up to what Robin presumed was the inn.

He moved to open the door, but stopped short just as something tugged at her arm. Robin felt his surprise, but she was too busy trying to puzzle out how her hand had ended up tucked in his to properly attend.

And then Lissa flung open the door, and they jumped apart like they'd been struck by Thunder.

"Did you two get lost or something?" she demanded. "Frederick was about to organize a search party. What were you two doing out here anyway?"

"N-nothing!" Chrom said, a little too loud and a little too quick to be convincing.

Not that Robin's hastily signed, _We're fine_ , was any better.

Lissa rolled her eyes before she herded them into the common room and over to a table that had two open seats. Nearly all the other tables had been filled with Shepherds.

"If Frederick finds out you guys were kissing out in front of the inn, well let's just say that a return of Frederick's Fanatical Fitness Hour is probably the nicest punishment you'll get."

Chrom started to protest their innocence to his sister's retreating back, but he gave up halfway through.

"So," Stahl cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably, "the food's pretty good."

"While sufficient fare, it is hardly the most interesting thing to occur at this precise moment." Miriel took a sip from her mug, her eyes never leaving theirs.

Ricken, well, his look of horrified disgust pretty much said it all.

As if Sir Run-Deeper-into-Enemy-Territory had any room to judge.

Robin wilted a little. If she'd been paying proper attention to what everyone else had been doing, Chrom would have never had to go looking for her. Lissa never would have accused them of something that hadn't even happened. And none of the rest of the Shepherds would be sneaking glances whenever they thought neither of them were looking.

The Shepherds were many things. However, subtle, they were not.

Chrom sighed. "Any explanation I give is going to fall on deaf ears, isn't it?"

"Sorry, Captain." Stahl gave him a sympathetic look before turning his attention back to his plate.

"Even if it's the truth?"

"While I have not studied this area of human nature as thoroughly as some of the others, it is my opinion humans have a peculiar interest in things of a more scandalous nature."

Chrom choked on the tepid tea in his mug. "Scandalous?"

Miriel nodded. "I believe it has something to do with how human brains are structured. Curiosity is a hallmark of intelligence, and the human mind tends to seek out stimuli that is both novel and relevant—even if only peripherally so."

Robin hid a smile at Chrom's look of absolute bewilderment as she reached for the basket of rolls in the center of the table. She grabbed one, only to drop it seconds later when Chrom's hand collided with her own.

They both jerked their arms back as though they'd been burned, and Robin ducked her head away before anyone could see the blush scorching itself across her cheeks. Her heartbeat had gone more than a little erratic, and her hand tingled where it had bumped against Chrom's.

She rubbed at the spot absently as she tried to sort her emotions. The butterflies in her stomach had melded with the dragons, and thus were simultaneously tangled about her lungs and thumping their wings against her heart. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry, but the room was suddenly too small, even though Chrom was nowhere near close enough.

Sanity.

She needed space to regain her sanity.

And breathing.

Breathing was good.

_Be back soon_ , she signed to any of at least seven sets of eyes that had been stealing glances in her direction. Then she pictured one of the trees in the courtyard and caught a lovely strand of light glinting where sunlight fell against her spoon.

She vanished instantly, only to land with a small thump against the stone of the courtyard. She leaned back against the trunk of the tree before she fished a block of wood and her whittling knife out of her pockets.

Once she brushed the soft grain of it with her thumb, her breathing became a little easier and her heart no longer seemed in danger of smashing through her rib cage.

So now, order.

She and Chrom had become friends.

Very, very good friends.

Robin pressed her fingertips against her lips as the night before replayed itself in her mind's eye.

Kissing, she'd gathered, was something only the very best of friends did. Hmm. No, that wasn't quite right.

She cut through the wood, sending little curls of it falling into her lap as she shaved away at the layers to find the bird that was already beginning to take shape.

He'd said, 'I love you.' The _I love you_ had definitely come before the kiss, but only just. What's more, she had said it too.

Her arms went slack as she went over every detail. What on earth did she know about love? Not anything that she could remember.

And yet . . .

And yet, the words had tasted like truth. Even now as the butterfly-dragons bounced around her gut, the truth of the sentiment filled her with a warm kind of glow.

Did she have to know what love was to be able to feel it?

And if she did feel love for him, then why had the rest of her gone completely unhinged?

Robin huffed a sigh at all the questions she had no answers for. She cut a few small notches out of the wood, centering herself against the comforting pressure of her knife while she carved out a few wooden feathers.

She tried to order her thoughts again, but everything always swung back around to those moon drenched moments when nothing had existed in the whole of the world but him.

And her.

And a feeling that was like falling, only better.

Because he was there.

If Robin hadn't been afraid of inadvertently becoming a guinea pig, she would have asked Miriel to help her figure out the questions to the one answer she already had.

But as curls of the not-bird fell in a wooden rain, Robin found herself perplexed by another question.

Did it matter?

If she truly loved him, did it matter if her insides had upended themselves sideways and backwards? Did it matter how red her face got or how taut her nerves? Did it matter how much fear was trembling beneath the anticipation?

If she truly loved him, then only one thing really mattered, all things considered.

Robin stared in awe at the simplicity of the answer that had been hidden quietly behind everything else.

Then she blinked as another, quieter thought came out to stand next to the first one.

_Sumia_.

She hadn't talked to Sumia.

How could she have been so careless? Robin's eyes widened. The pies! Sumia had even baked the pie for them. For Chrom.

And she . . .

. . . She was a terrible friend.

Shoulders slumping under the sudden crushing weight of her guilt, she picked up the carving she had dropped in the pile of wood shavings.

How could she—

Robin frowned as she turned her carving this way and that. What had been feathers had somehow turned to scales. And where the beak was supposed to be was a longish kind of snout.

And the wings . . . !

This wasn't a bird, but a dragon.

She blinked at it stupidly, wondering where she'd gone wrong and how long it had been a dragon, when a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention.

A woman stood next to a vegetable cart, haggling over the price of carrots. Robin held still as she waited—

There.

A little face that was mostly eyes framed by two fluffy pigtails peeked around her mother's skirts.

The little girl ducked away once her gaze met Robin's, but she peeked again a few moments later.

Smiling, Robin held out her carving. She watched in fascination as the little girl advanced, only to retreat, before she advanced once more. Caught between curiosity and caution, the child moved back and forth, undecided.

What was decided, however, was that the little girl would not move from her mother's side.

But that was all right.

The little dragon would be out of place among her flock of wooden birds, and just as it had chosen its own shape, so too had it chosen who it belonged to.

Focusing on a bit of Miriel's simplified Wind spell, Robin called the magic up. It curled around the carving as the tail curved about her fingers. She glanced at the girl to make sure she was watching before she traced the sigils in the air that would give purpose to the magic.

Gentle as dandelion down, the Wind scooped up the carving and sent it floating over to the little girl's waiting hands.

The child's eyes had gone wide with wonder as she turned the dragon over in her hands. When she tore her gaze away long enough to look up at Robin, Robin smiled and waved at her.

The little girl's smile was like sunshine as she "flew" the dragon around her mother's basket before having it dive away to the other side.

Some of the earlier warmth returned to her heart, soothing away her worries and questions.

It would be all right. Things would work out—especially if Robin was the one drawing up the plans. She would talk to Sumia, and then Chrom. And then, in all likelihood, Miriel.

Feeling lighter than she had in a while, Robin rubbed the back of her hand as she got to her feet. With a little experimentation they might be able to refine the Wind well enough to be useful—beyond its martial applications, of course.

She paused. Something about the carving and the Wind tugged at Robin's consciousness. Something she ought to be noting.

Or remember—

She froze as a bit of her sleeve had slipped up from where she'd been rubbing the back of her right hand. The brand glowed with what ought to have been a lovely violet color, but instead it made dread curl in her stomach and ice run through her veins.

Robin went still as she tried to pinpoint the direction the brand was reacting to. If she could figure that out, maybe she could estimate the distance . . .

_Grima_.

The name was carried on the back of a cold wind that smelled of smokey decay.

And it was close.

Horror pressed down on her, stole her breath, as she took in the people going about their daily chores. The Risen weren't here yet, but they _were_ coming. And when they got here—

The little girl waved the dragon at her just as she caught a strand of light.

She landed in an untidy heap at Frederick's feet. Unsurprising as he was the shiniest thing in the room.

"Robin!"

_No time. Risen are coming_.

He stiffened. "What? Where?"

_Here. Soon_.

"Right." Frederick stood and began giving orders.

Robin hurried over to where she'd last seen Chrom. She'd given a lot of thought to what Frederick had told her, and while she hadn't come up with an acceptable counter yet, she'd work with what she had.

She couldn't run ahead of him if she didn't leave him behind.

He smiled when he saw her, half rising.

Excellent.

She caught hold of his wrist and tugged him to his feet.

"Robin, wha—"

She shook her head as she used her momentum to catapult them across the room and out the door. The inn was near the center of the village square, so it didn't take long for them to reach the fountain.

_Risen_ , she signed, her eyes scanning the square. There was a heaviness in the air that hadn't been there before, and luckily most of the villagers had gone home or inside. It really didn't matter, so long as they'd gone away.

"How long do we have?" Chrom drew Falchion in a long, fluid movement.

Robin shook her head. She didn't know. If only—

Her eyes fell upon the radiant violet lines glowing against the back of her hand. They were connected to both the name and the Risen. A warning, perhaps? Or a bond?

She really didn't care which at the moment so long as the markings allowed them to get to the Risen first. Biting back her fear, Robin pulled her sleeve up and exposed the brand so she could see them clearly.

Then, feeling more than a little like a human-shaped compass, she held out her arm and slowly turned in a tight circle.

And . . . Nothing.

Unless making her hand itch even more counted.

"You've got this, Robin." Chrom stepped up beside her, rested his hand on her shoulder.

She nodded, took a deep breath, and then closed her eyes. She extended her arm once more, turning slowly on her heel. For a moment, this try seemed as destined for failure as the first, but with her eyes closed, she was able to focus her attention a little differently.

Now she could hear the name being chanted over and over and over again, until it had turned into a quiet hiss.

"Milord!" Frederick called as he and the rest of the Shepherds spilled out into the square behind them.

There! When she faced the direction closest to the mountains, her hand burned a little hotter, the chant hissed a little louder, and the air was tinged with desperation and death.

_Frederick, you head down the center with Lon'qu and Lissa to back you up. Sully, you, Vaike, and Miriel take the left flank. Stahl, you and Virion the right. Sumia, you'll watch from above. Lend your lance wherever it will do the most good_. Robin frowned. She really didn't want to have to deal with anymore pea-brained heroics _. And take Ricken with you_.

"Hey! I can fight as well as anyone else! Try me!"

The fire went out of Ricken's stance exactly ten seconds into her stare. Once she was certain he'd follow orders, Robin finished organizing the Shepherds.

_Kellam, Donnel, and Maribelle, you'll serve as a second spear down the center. Guard the healers at all costs. The Risen—they're not going to stop coming for a bit. Pace yourselves, and don't allow yourselves to be separated from your units._

"What about us?" Chrom murmured.

Robin scowled in the direction that called to her brand the loudest. _We need to go destroy a name_.

"A name?"

She nodded. _You likely won't be able to see or sense it. I'll need you to keep the Risen at bay once we get to it_. Then she turned to the others. _Let's go_.

The villagers, perhaps wary of how they'd assembled, or maybe they could sense the malice the wind had blown in, either way, the square was empty as they sped through it. Once they reached the other side, they all broke into their groups.

Robin led Chrom slightly perpendicular to the rest, hoping that the road stretched on to where she needed it to go. He ran lightly beside her, and she could almost feel his intentions turned to silent words that scattered like square marbles before them.

Right.

She put out an arm to stop him. Going forward, they'd need every distraction silenced. If this was a trap or a test, it would likely be the heaviest guarded and most dangerous way to go.

"Is it here?" Chrom asked, casting his eyes about as though he could uncover the name by the force of his will alone.

Robin smiled, shook her head. _This is the last safe place. Safe-ish. After this point, we're going to spring any traps that have been set. Are you prepared to go forward?_

"You have to ask?" Chrom said, his boyish grin lighting up his entire face.

_Ha!_ She smirked at him, before her expression softened. _Don't die, Chrom. We—all of Ylisse—need you_.

"Only Ylisse?" His face had softened as well, and the air all around them became . . . charged. Heavy. Like standing next to a Thoron that hadn't yet struck its target. A storm that had yet to unleash its fury.

Now it was her turn to stretch across the distance between them to lay her hand on his arm. _All of Ylisse_. She peered into his eyes to make certain he understood. Then, laughing, she twisted away and sprinted forward.

He caught up to her easily, and they ran together in companionable silence.

The name was all about her now, coiled like a snake made of purple smoke and malice. Her hand throbbed in time with the chant, the violet lines scoring her flesh with dark fire.

Robin gritted her teeth and forced herself to concentrate on something—anything—else. The agony would end once she destroyed the name. All she had to do was find it and—

A Risen leaped up toward them, screaming as it came. She raised her hand, but Falchion had already slashed through the neck, releasing a gout of foul air in its place. But the damage had already been done. The other Risen in the area had heard their comrade's cry, and a stream of red points and dull metallic edges turned toward them.

"You worry about finding the name," Chrom said, his eyes on the tide of Risen that were coming. "I'll take care of the rest."

Robin stared at him, mentally kicking herself for not having at least one other Shepherd come with them. They would have gotten in the way a bit, yes, but Chrom could have used an extra hand.

She shook her head and readied her stance. This time she could fight back without her magic searing itself through her brain. If they fought back to back—

"No," Chrom said, sparing her a glance. "You're the only one who can sense it, otherwise you'd have had everyone come with us. I've got this. Just—trust me."

Robin blinked, and a bit of the fire in her hand formed a line of fire down the center of her heart.

_I'll hurry. And Chrom—_

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

_Don't die_.

Then she surged forward, dodging rusted blades and shattered claws. The Risen screamed curses against the living. Against the dead slumbering peacefully. Against everything that stood against Grima—

_Grima_.

Robin spun on her heel, narrowly avoiding being stuck through the center by a lance whose edge had all but corroded away. Taking a deep breath, she centered herself before tracing the sigils for Thunder. She spun in a circle, clearing a swathe of the living dead as she speared the light through their centers.

Then she took off once more, her hand outstretched, following the thread that led to the name that had been carved into the back of her hand. Her markings were glowing so brilliantly that she couldn't bear to look at them any longer.

Time seemed to slow down around her. Each step she took, every movement she made, required all of her strength and attention. The sounds of battle went faint and slightly distorted, and she strained to hear through the strangeness that had fallen all around her.

The name no longer hissed. Instead, it had turned to a whisper coated with midnight, seemingly coming from every direction at once.

Horror welled up inside her. She had never considered that it was just as easy to write a name one place as it was another. Had the name been inscribed in multiple places?

The air had gone unbearably thick. Had turned to water. Sound muted and echoed oddly. A great weight bore down on every limb as she struggled to move. Her heart thumped in her chest, slow and steady and as labored as each breath she took.

Light flashed from her fingertips as Robin hurled Thunder after Thunder, striking out at everything that moved. A reddish tinge bled into her vision bit by bit, and the fire had spread from her hand to her face.

The acrid stench of the Risen mixed with the iron tainting the air, making it even harder to draw breath. Robin's arms ached and her fingers felt as though she'd thrust them into a bonfire, and still she hadn't found the name.

It had been to the right of her, but now, as she stood panting in place, she could feel it very clearly behind her. She would have wept with frustration if she'd had the energy to spare. How was it moving so quickly?

_Was it moving at all?_

She frowned as she strained her senses toward it. Now it was to the left of her. If only she could—

A shout sliced through the air, hot as lightning.

Chrom!

She turned toward him, preparing to hurl herself in his direction before the name flashed in her mind's eye just to the left of her. So very close. Did she have time to reach Chrom before it moved again?

As if taunting her, the name shifted once more. And again. And again. Coming from a different direction each time. And under the name, a quiet laugh that stilled everything it touched.

Robin froze as she recognized the laugh. Water became ice, and fire turned to stone.

And the whole world stopped moving save for herself and . . .

"In daring to face me alone, you have doomed this world. Your arrogance truly knows no bounds." The woman, a perfect clone of herself, sat lightly upon the nightmare steed. A queen upon her throne. Death and violence one breath from falling upon their prey.

Robin couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Fear clung to her like madness steeped in night until it coated everything. Swallowing all into icy decay.

The woman was beside her now, looking down at her, the calculated cruelty in her eyes pinning Robin in place. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead, ran down her temples, as a silent cry built itself to screaming in her throat. Summoning every bit of her strength, Robin clenched her teeth around the cry. She very well might die here, even so, she would not give the woman any satisfaction that was in her power to withhold.

"Even now you think you can escape," the woman murmured, her eyes lighting up. And yet, Robin could have sworn there was a spark of fury underneath all the feigned delight.

Robin didn't try to say anything, not when it required all her courage just to stand there without crumbling to pieces.

"You, who are the fantasy, must kneel before me as all must do in the end. You cannot save them. You never could. You are nothing more than a little puppet whose strings have lasted just long enough to be cut." The woman laughed with the rasp of batwings, and shadows seemed to pour from her throat.

Despair.

Regret.

Futility.

Every black emotion ran its course through her veins, weakening her muscles, tearing away pieces of her heart.

Until all that remained were cold ashes that had withered away to dust.

Against her will, Robin's head bowed, weighed down with a terrible weight. Her arms and legs had lengths of spidery cracks running up and down them. Her fortifications had not been enough. Would never be enough.

In the end, all would be an endless night.

No stars.

No moon.

No promise of another day.

Just a single moment.

Frozen for all time.

"Robin!"

Chrom's voice seemed to come from so very far away, and yet there he was, standing beside her just the same. She couldn't be certain, of course, her head was so heavy that she couldn't move it at all.

He called her name again and again.

Each time a little closer.

Each time a little louder.

Until he seemed to be shouting it right into her ear.

Robin blinked.

Realized her eyes were shut.

Blinked again.

Saw a spider-thin thread of sunlight wrapped along the edges of her name as he called out to her.

She reached for the sunlight, but found she couldn't move. Dark bands of midnight had been wrapped around her, cocooning her away from the light.

Away from him.

For one glorious moment, a fury brighter than a thousand suns burned through her, tearing away chunks of shadow. Burning away tattered dreams.

When Robin blinked again, she found herself nose to nose with the woman's mount. A great, dark beast that writhed with nightmares until all the air about it had turned to ice. It watched her with sightless eyes, and she could feel the terrible hunger gnawing at it, driving it to madness.

And beneath that . . .

Strands of night clung to her limbs as she forced herself to move. Cut into her flesh. Scored her bones.

The pain of it tried to burrow deep, to turn her toward madness. But she dug her heels in and forced it to bring her to waking instead. To focus her strength and give bite to her courage. To find a way back to Chrom.

Magic sizzled against the shock of cold air as she called it into being. It formed between her fingers, rested smooth against her palm. The light from it spit and danced, eager to be given purpose.

Light was not yet her ally, but it made a fine weapon indeed.

Something wrapped around her then, and its warmth brought life back to her frozen body. Moving, breathing, was agony, but agony meant life. Just enough life for her to ram the shaft of Thoron into the heart of the starless beast.

It reared back, screaming, but the warmth that had brought her back to life pulled her away from its ink-dark hooves. And as she leaned against it, panting, she turned to look up at him. To thank him for rescuing her.

But it wasn't Chrom's sturdy frame holding her up.

"Do not fear, Child of Earth and Light." The woman's voice was sun-warmed honey, her form a confusing mix of jade and ivory.

Robin tried to pull away, but her muscles had turned to water and her bones to fire, and it was all she could do not to extinguish herself.

The woman gazed at the place the shadow beast had stood. "I'm afraid our meddling with the bud has changed the course of the roots. You aren't yet ready to face your adversary."

Robin wanted to protest. To demand to know where Chrom was. But all she could do was stare into eyes of the purest green and hope she didn't lose herself—halfway to not caring if she did.

The woman smiled at her. "I haven't much time, and I'm quite certain the bearer of my brand is going to be very annoyed with me as it is. I have one thing I would like to ask of you."

With great effort, Robin managed to nod. On her end, she was quite certain that she would have been capable of nothing else at that moment.

For a moment, the woman's eyes clouded over. "There will come a time when night will find purchase. When you will doubt yourself, and all will hang by a slender thread. I would ask that you stand with him then—no matter the storm roiling in your heart. You are both stronger together, and you will need that strength if you are to save anything at all."

Feeling as though every finger had become stone, she forced them to move one painful letter at a time. _Who?_

"The one to whom you've given your heart." The woman leaned in as though sharing a secret. "And please remind him that it was never my intention to keep you. Not this way."

Robin took a shuddering breath, confused when the taste of iron touched her tongue and spilled out over her lips.

"Ah, I've tarried too long." The woman's eyes softened. "Do not forget."

Then she shoved Robin away with the strength of a thousand men.

For a moment, Robin's heart glittered as it decided whether or not to shatter. Warmth fled from her body, only to be replaced with a cold that sank down into her bones.

"Robin!"

Chrom's face replaced the darkness, and she found herself smiling, only to fall into confusion as something wet dropped against her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, Robin. I had no idea she was going to—" His voice broke, and it took a moment for Robin to realize he was weeping.

She tried to sit up then, but only succeeded in causing a coughing fit. The scent of iron made its way to her muddled head. That particular smell was not good. It meant someone had been hurt, and might even been dying.

Had one of the Shepherds done something foolish? Robin was able to find comfort in the fact that this time it couldn't have been Ricken.

Something cold dripped against her face once more, and she finally remembered that the cold wetness was tears.

Chrom.

She reached through the utter exhaustion weighing down her limbs to cup his face with her hand. The memory of the woman had been burned into her mind. Robin had a feeling that she was more likely to forget her own name again before she'd forget the lady.

There was something she was supposed to tell him. Something in particular. But her mind had grown hazy, and her thoughts refused to stay together.

Oh well. She'd rest first. Then she'd tell him.

In the meantime, she let her hand fall for a moment before giving voice to the thought at the forefront of her mind.

_Now do you see why I can't abide horses?_

* * *

Lucina stared in horrified silence as she watched Falchion bury herself in her mother's chest. To anyone else, it would have looked as though her father had attacked her, but Lucina had carried her sword long enough to recognize when Falchion was acting on her own.

Her father had shouted something. He yanked Falchion back and dropped her before lunging forward to catch her mother.

She wanted to skulk away, feeling as though she was intruding on a moment too intimate for anyone else to see, but her parents weren't the only ones Falchion was directing.

Meddlesome sword.

With the weight of the ages on her shoulders, she made her way to her father's side.

"She's going to be all right."

He looked up at her then, all the raw emotion in his face hitting her at once.

"How can you be sure?" His eyes returned to her mother's face. "If I had known—How could she survive—"

Lucina knelt down beside her. "Because Falchion's purpose remains the same—to protect Ylisse and her people."

Neither of them looked at the bright red gash in her mother's chest. Nor at the faint purple lines swirling like extra eyes down each side of her face.

"You're going to take her away again." A quiet statement with hidden fire. His hands trembled a little as he tightened his hold on her mother.

"No. Not this time. Not yet." Lucina had to hide her smile when her father looked up at her, confused.

She sighed. To say any more would be playing with dragon fire, yet to keep silent was to watch another heart fracture when it didn't have to. Besides, Naga herself had said that their meddling had already changed the shape of history at its roots.

"The world she walks in is not yet her own. When I must take her away, that is when her essence must be strengthened to bear the bonds she is forming here."

Her father drew his brows together as he listened to what she'd said, and a little to what she hadn't. "Will she ever belong to this world?"

Lucina hid a smile. It wasn't over and they hadn't won yet. "That will depend on the strength and the depth of the bonds she forms here."

Her father nodded, thoughtful. How he held her mother and the fierce protectiveness of his expression was one of the things Lucina remembered best about him.

_What you loved, you protected. What you protected, you loved_.

It was strange, in a way, how simple those times were compared to now. For single, tight breath, she ached for the time when her father and mother's arms were there, waiting, to protect her from nightmares and broken flower pots.

Lucina pushed the childish longing away. Her time had passed, but not many years hence and a little girl would be born. It was _that_ Lucina's future she had sworn to protect.

Then, because Falchion didn't like to quarrel with either one of them, she reached toward her mother. "May I?"

When her father made no move to stop her, she gently pulled the coat away. It was heavy and smelled of a battlefield, yet there was another scent underneath. A steel gray sky trembling right before it unleashed a torrent of rain.

Her mother's shirt was completely ruined, the front soaked in so much blood that it almost looked black. Her father bit back a curse, and even her breath hissed between her teeth.

Silently praying that she was mending, rather than sundering, relations with Falchion, Lucina peeled back part of her mother's shirt, trying to ignore the sticky warmth of the blood.

"There." She pointed to a thin silver scar that glimmered softly in the sunlight, all that remained of the ordeal. "She will recover."

Her father blinked at the scar. "How could . . . She went deeper than that. I felt it."

Lucina gave him a humorless laugh. "Think of it as Falchion's way of saying hello."

In truth, much of the common lore concerning Falchion was a little less complete than it should have been. Somewhere in the process of her choosing to be borne by one with the exalted brand, they'd forgotten that she could, on occasion, guide and guard someone outside of the exalted line.

She just had to taste their heart first. And often, despite everything, the results of the test were . . . less than optimal.

The look on her father's face made clear what he thought of Falchion's greeting.

An odd sort of feeling fluttered in her chest. It took Lucina a moment or two to realize it was laughter. How strange it was that their roles had been reversed. To be teaching her father some of the very same lessons he had taught her.

The marks on her mother's face had completely disappeared, which was a relief. Whatever spell the grimleal had cast upon her mother had been undone under Falchion's watchful eye.

"I must go," Lucina said with real regret. It was getting harder, living in the past. Her heart had already begun to forget which time was her own.

"Please," her father said, shifting her mother enough that he could stand while cradling her in his arms. "You have always been here to help us. Is there nothing we—I—can do for you in return?"

Lucina thought hard as she bent down to pick up Falchion where her father had dropped her. She considered the blade before she placed her gently on top of her mother.

"Don't die," she said simply as she nodded toward her mother. "She spoke the truth. You are Ylisse's greatest hope."

Then, before she could go completely maudlin, Lucina stepped sideways between the worlds. The butterflies her mother had taught her how to fashion blurred softly as they escorted her from one realm to the next.

Lucina sighed and rested her hand on Falchion. How could one sword be so meddlesome?

Still, she thought as some of the tension went out of her shoulders, it was nice to be back. Not home, exactly, but something akin.

She had just moved to find another passageway, when she froze in place.

"All right, missy. Spill it." Her aunt's counterpart wore an expression that advised prompt obedience, but it was her father's counterpart that held her in place.

"Something happened," he said. "What do you know of it?"

Lucina sighed. Despite all she knew, there were still large gaps comprised of all she didn't know.

"We're running out of time." That much she did know. The feeling had practically engraved itself in her bones. "The grimleal have woken and Grima is stirring."

The question was why.

Her father's counterpart frowned, but it was her aunt who spoke. Lissa tucked her staff in her belt and crossed her arms.

"Then you better start talking."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meddlesome sword indeed! I have a feeling that-at some point-Falchion and Chrom are going to have to sit down and have a heart to heart. Immortal dragon fang that she is, I don't think much for her chances when that happens. On the other hand, Falchion really knows how to get her point across. :p
> 
> And now that at least three people have seen the Grima in Robin rise to the surface a little, I have a feeling things are going to get interesting. I'm still not entirely sure whether their play will be pouncing on Robin when she least expects it or involving her directly as they try to figure out what in the heck it all means. Currently, I think the most dangerous threat that Grima-Robin poses is in undermining regular Robin's confidence in herself.
> 
> I hadn't expected it to come this soon, but even the counterparts can feel that important things are happening, and they aren't going to be quiet, meek little counterparts and wait for whatever's happening to happen. I'm really looking forward to exploring this a little more. :D
> 
> Heh. Trust Robin to turn "I love you" into "Don't die." :p
> 
> As always, thank you all for reading, commenting, sharing, etc. While I might fall short, I'm always aiming higher with each chapter I write specifically because of you. I hope you are enjoying the story as much as I am writing it. Thank you! :D
> 
> *Apologies for how long it took me to get to your comments. I had a flare-up and crashed sometime on Friday evening. I'll be getting to all of them today. :) Fortunately had most of this chapter already written.*


	31. Chapter Thirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. The weird stuff is probably mine. :p

Chrom stared at the moonlight spilling through his fingers.

Robin had still not recovered, and he had no idea why he was sitting in a tree instead of where he belonged—which could have been either of two places.

The villagers, once they had seen the Shepherds step in to defend them, had thrown together something of a feast, or so Frederick had dutifully reported. The gloomy and oppressive air hanging over the village had gone as the final Risen had dissolved into purple smoke.

Surprisingly, Frederick hadn't pressed him to come. Instead, he'd given him a small book of poetry that, so far as Chrom could make out, might have also doubled as a gardening manual.

The other place that called to him was a quiet back room in a potter's cottage. It was warm and dry and had an abundance of laughter and love woven through the rafters down to the cellar. When the potter's wife had offered their home for Robin, his first instinct had been to gracefully decline. There were thirteen children after all, but when the youngest came forth, clutching a small wooden dragon that had to have been Robin's handiwork, he couldn't have said no if they'd allowed him to.

Robin would have loved it here.

No. She _would_ love it here. Once she woke up.

He glared at the memory that kept replaying itself no matter how forcefully he shoved it away. Emm wouldn't be pleased to learn that one of Ylisse's national treasures was currently guarding the family's watermelon patch.

Up to the hilt.

Frederick hadn't said anything about that either.

"So hey, big brother. Am I climbing up or are you coming down?"

"Lissa?" He snapped his head in her direction. "Is something wrong? Did anything happen?"

"What?" Her eyes went wide as he dropped down beside her. "No. Nothing like that."

"Has she—"

"Sorry, Chrom. Not yet."

He tried to let out the breath he'd been holding since . . . then, but iron bands seemed to have wrapped themselves around his lungs.

"Was there something you needed?"

Lissa searched his face, looking for all the world like a smaller Emm. "Yep." She sat down before patting the ground beside her. Then she waited a few minutes more. "Well, since you can't hit it or stab it, I figured you might want to try talking about it instead."

There had been plenty of times in his life when his sisters had been utterly incomprehensible. This time was no exception.

"I'm afraid I don't follow, Lis." Chrom shook his head. If anything, the memory had become more vivid.

He should have been faster. Stronger. He should have known—

"Hey there." Lissa took one of his hands into hers and pried it open. "This is what I'm talking about. Anyone stupid enough to bring a fist to a sword fight deserves what they get. I'm glad my big brother is too smart to do something like that." The look she gave him was directly at odds with her words.

"I—" Chrom sighed and relaxed his fingers. "Sorry, Lis."

She nodded, then started doodling on his palm with her finger. Something she hadn't done in years.

"So, the watermelon patch, huh?"

He sighed again. Falchion had weathered far worse than a bit of dirt and come through just fine. A hundred different responses came to mind. He went with the easiest.

"You can never be too careful."

"Right." Lissa snorted. "What with all the watermelon bandits coming for us on top of everything else."

"They won't know what hit them." The words slipped out of his mouth before he'd thought them through, which explained why they'd winged back to stab him in the heart.

Appropriate, given the circumstances.

He glared in the direction of the garden. Sumia had quietly made off with Robin's coat, promising that she'd make it better than new. He wondered if she'd be able to get all the blood out, because whenever he looked at his hands, he could almost see the bright scarlet staining his fingers.

He would never be able to get those stains out.

"Chrom," his sister hesitated. She drew a few more flourishes of what might have been a rooster-headed cat in a poofy dress. "Why do I have the feeling that you're still beating up my most favorite brother in the world?"

"I'm your only brother in the world," he said, hoping she would laugh, finish her drawing, and then let him brood in peace.

She didn't say anything. She just widened her eyes and _looked_ at him in a signature Emm move that usually produced sheepish confessions about why the gardens looked like a manakete had plowed through them.

Again.

"What do you want me to say, Lis?"

"I want to know why you're blaming yourself for something that wasn't your fault."

When he didn't say anything, she gripped his hand hard enough to crush a finger or two. He grimaced and wished she'd go back to tracing cat pictures on his hand.

"I'm serious, Chrom."

"Falchion was in my hand." He squeezed his eyes against the look on Robin's face when . . . when . . . "As the one called to wield Falchion, I bear full responsibility." Her eyes had opened so wide, and the storm within them had cleared away until he could clearly see the stars reflected in them.

Something soft brushed against his cheeks. "I think we both know what Robin would say about that."

Robin . . .

He would never be able to look at her again.

It was only when Lissa fluttered her handkerchief across his face again that Chrom recognized the wetness on his face for what it was. He cleared his throat. Moved to sit back. Drew in a deep breath to regain his composure.

But Lissa wrapped her arm around his and patted his shoulder the way she comforted the worst of those she oversaw. The irony was not lost on him.

"My staff can only do so much, but you can't keep this bottled up inside. I won't let you, and neither will Robin."

He took another breath that shuddered in his chest. He had no right to seek relief. Not when . . . Not when she—

Something inside him tore loose as the memory of her filled his arms. Robin had always been fair, but instead of glowing against the sunlight, the shadows on her face, in the hollows beneath her eyes, lent a grayish cast to the rest of her that had frightened him more than anything. She had seemed so small then, as if a sudden gust of wind could tear her from his side.

Send her tumbling into the sky.

When he'd carried her back to the village, she'd weighed little more than one of her birds she was forever whittling. Frederick had tried to take her then. That part of his memory was blurry, but he remembered shouting. Something with no words.

Just as he had no words now.

"Right," Lissa's voice had gone brisk, "there will be no more of that. You can be angry, hurt, afraid, but no more dragging yourself over hot iron. Hating yourself and Falchion isn't going to help Robin when she wakes up. All it's going to do is make her want to smack you upside the head!"

Despite all that had happened, Chrom discovered he still had room for a very small laugh. He pulled back and passed his arm over his face. "Do you treat all your patients like this?"

"Only the dunder-headed ones."

"Remind me never to get injured in battle."

"Hey!"

He didn't dodge away from her swipe. Instead, he pulled her into a quick hug before he stood. "Thank you, Lis."

"What can I say, you're my favorite brother." She dusted her skirts off. "Just let me know when she wakes up."

He nodded, feeling strangely light. Oh, he was still going to let Falchion know in no uncertain terms that Robin was off limits, but he no longer felt the urge to have her encased in stone before throwing her into the sea.

Which was, he supposed, progress.

Still, that quiet room called to him, and Chrom couldn't find it in himself to refuse. His feet already knew the way.

The potter's wife nodded at him when he entered the main room of the cottage. She pushed a tray heaping with food into his hands as he moved past her.

"Oh, I couldn't—"

"Please, Your Highness, it is the least we can do." She dropped a hand to conjure a cloud of hair with wide green eyes that peered out from behind her skirts, one little fist still clutching her wooden dragon.

Chrom bowed. "Thank you. Everything smells delicious."

He straightened, but before he could move, something tugged on his cape. Looking down, he was surprised to see the little girl holding up a small, lopsided cup filled with daisies.

"That's her first pot," her mother said, beaming down at her daughter with a look of warm pride he vaguely remembered receiving from his own mother.

Chrom bent down on one knee, solemnly accepting the brightly glazed treasure. "I'll make sure it's one of the first things that she sees when she wakes up."

The child grinned up at him before ducking back behind her mother's skirts. Chrom bowed to them both before retreating to the back room.

He placed the tray on a small table and sat in a chair that had been pushed up to the side of the bed.

Robin lay sleeping, not having moved so much as a hair from the time they'd first laid her down. The moonlight pouring in through the window softened the shadows on her face, made her look ethereal and not quite human.

"You never told me you'd moved on to dragons," he murmured as he placed the pot of flowers next to her pillow. "Come to think of it, you've never told me why it's always birds you carve."

He reached over and caught her hands in his. They were cold, as they often were, but strong. A few of her fingers had ink stains on them, but it was the violet markings on the back of her right hand that drew his eye. They were the same color and style of those that had appeared on her face, yet the one on her hand hadn't faded.

There was something about them that seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn't remember where he'd seen the markings before. A book, maybe? A tapestry?

Well, whatever their story, he was content to wait. What mattered now was Robin's recovery, and then preparing Ylisse for the war that was coming.

Slipping his hands from hers, Chrom smoothed Robin's hair away from her face before pressing his lips to her forehead.

She had survived.

She would get better.

In the meantime, he and the rest of the Shepherds would prepare at least one village against the coming storm.

* * *

What did she know?

Lucina really didn't know where to begin. Or rather, the line she'd had been walking at Lady Tiki's behest had grown so blurry over the last little while that it was hard to tell where, exactly, she was supposed to place her feet.

"Why don't you start with what happened?" Chrom said, giving her a sympathetic look.

Her aunt waved a finger at her. "And don't leave out any of the interesting parts. They could be important!"

Lucina stifled her grin. Aunt Lissa had been a bit of a spitfire until the very end. That thought sobered her.

She frowned as she replayed the scene she had just witnessed in her mind. "Grima lured Robin into a trap."

"Oh no! Is she all right?" Her aunt clutched her staff while her father reached for Falchion.

At least one of them was still on good terms with the sword.

Lucina bit her lip against the sea of emotions threatening to boil over. Despite what anyone had wanted, it had fallen to her to walk any number of paths alone. And she would continue to do so.

No price was too great if it meant saving her father, her family, her world.

"She will be."

"What do you mean?" Her father—no, Chrom—had narrowed his eyes and was watching her warily.

"Falchion intervened. The counteroffensive was successful, and Robin is recovering." Lucina kept her voice low and perfectly modulated. She couldn't afford to slip up now. Not when the stakes had risen so high.

Her—Chrom's look of relief eased some of her burden and strengthened her resolve against informing them of what, exactly, the counteroffensive had consisted. Everything would have been far more dangerous if his trust in Falchion was broken.

"Right." Lissa planted the end of her staff on the ground, every inch the warrior she would one day become. "So what's a Grima?"

Lucina closed her eyes. In all that had happened, it would seem she was hardly as impervious as she would have liked to believe.

As she needed to be.

"And why," Chrom spoke slowly, every word painfully distinct, "does it feel as though something . . . vital to this world has broken away?"

Cursing her fate, Lucina drew in a few deep breaths. Of course she would step out of the frying pan only to fall into the fire. Her family's counterparts were, for the lack of a finer word, highly distilled version of themselves.

They were more themselves than their outside versions were.

She would have to tread carefully.

"Grima is an enemy—to both worlds. His efforts are focused on the other realm, but if that realm falls, so too will this one."

They both went pale as they considered the implications. It was the look they gave each other after that worried her.

"You didn't answer my question." Chrom put a hand to his chest. "Something just . . . snapped off. Like a thread had been cut. Do you know what it is? What happened?"

Lucina grimaced. She couldn't be sure, be she had a good idea what might have happened. Falchion, it seemed, had chosen for them—or her mother, at least.

That . . . hadn't happened before.

"I will have to look into the matter," she managed, her words like ashes. Grima had not yet risen, but he had stirred himself far before his time. Enough to project a cruel parody of her mother's form at least.

And Falchion . . .

Lucina glanced down at the sword at her side. For Falchion to have chosen, to have done anything other than serving as a guide and a protector . . . They must have changed the past far beyond what Lady Tiki had feared.

Chrom crossed his arms and gave her a measured look. "If Robin has been injured, why haven't you brought her here?"

A thousand explanations played through her mind, but she discarded them one by one. He would see through them.

Or Lissa would.

Lucina's failure to remain aloof and completely in the shadows was unforgivable.

"I'm afraid I can't answer that."

Lissa raised a brow. "Why not?"

She shook her head. "It isn't fair, but I must ask you to trust me."

She mustn't fail.

She couldn't.

If only they could have all come through together.

Chrom and Lissa exchanged another look.

"Please understand." He held out a hand so as to meet her halfway. "We want to trust you, we do. Is there anything you can give us? Even the smallest thing . . ."

This Chrom had the same look in his eye as the Chrom that would eventually become her father. It was the firm, unyielding expression that appeared whenever her mother's fate was in question.

Her mother—the key that bound two worlds together. A riddle they'd never properly solved. Not before—

Exhaustion settled on her shoulders, pinched her limbs with a stony grip. The one benefit to all of this was that her brand was hardly even visible in this realm. Reaching up, she untied the mask to give them the one thing she had to offer.

Lissa put a hand to her mouth, too late to cover her gasp. Chrom's eyes widened, and he took a step back.

"Robin," he breathed her name like a prayer. Then he blinked, and his eyes cleared. "You are her—"

"Kinswoman." Lucina pressed her mouth against the secret beating against her lips with ragged wings. Lady Tiki had been clear that her parents must never know they'd chosen each other in the past. It was the very act of their choosing that would be the bond upon which all else hung.

"I am her kin, and I swear to you that I have no intention of allowing Robin to be lost."

Chrom nodded as he digested her words, and the tension around his eyes and mouth softened. "You will keep us informed?"

Another mountain landed on her shoulders as she nodded.

"Good. Then—"

"Chrom," Lissa said, her eyes never leaving Lucina's face. She thrust a small book into his hands. "Go see if you can gather the herbs I'm going to need for a poultice I'm experimenting with."

His brow wrinkled. "Herbs?"

"Yeah. You know, the green stuff you always pick out of your food."

"Lissa, I—"

"You'll do fine, Chrom."

He opened the book and flipped through the pages. "But I have no idea—Wait. Is this a book of poetry?"

" _Goodbye_ , Chrom."

"But—"

The second Lissa turned around to deal with her brother, Lucina started backing away. There had been something a little too knowing in Lissa's eyes, and Lucina still had to gauge how much damage recent events had caused to this timeline.

She held her breath as the first dark butterfly fluttered past her cheek. Just a few more seconds and—

"Yeah, I don't think so." Lissa grabbed Lucina by the sleeve and pulled her firmly back into the realm.

"Please, Lissa, I beg of you—"

"Nuh-uh." Lissa gave her a stern look, somehow managing to appear delicate and fierce all at the same time. "My brother's not the kind to notice subtle unless its hitting him in the face with a hammer, but even I'm surprised he didn't recognize his own daughter."

Lucina's mouth went dry and her eyes darted frantically to make sure no one else might have overheard Lissa's declaration.

"I can explain."

Lissa waved an airy hand. "What's there to explain? You look like you could be Robin's sister, and you have Chrom's eyes and coloring."

She could still salvage the situation. She just had to be very, very careful. "Yes, you see—"

"And his sword." Lissa crossed her arms and gave her a look that usually meant she was about to sit on someone's head, if that was what was required.

"Well, there's—" Lucina's shoulders slumped. The Lady Tiki of the future was going to kill her—if the future still existed at all. "They mustn't find out."

Lissa plucked a few daisies with violet and indigo petals and began braiding them into a crown. "Why not? I'm not even going to pretend to understand how you're right there, practically all grown up, and Chrom hasn't even begun properly courting, let alone married, Robin. But you are, so why not celebrate?"

Lucina sank down beside Lissa. "Because if everything's going to work out, they have to choose each other."

"Ri—ight. Which they obviously will at some point."

"But they haven't yet. That's the difference. Choosing each other because of my existence isn't the same thing as choosing each other out of love."

"Oh."

"It is that bond they form in the choosing that could make all the difference."

Lissa frowned at the half-finished flower crown. "That thing we felt snap earlier. That was Robin's tie to this realm, wasn't it."

"One of them."

"But she's our Robin. What happened to yours?"

Lucina sighed. "She's the only Robin, so far as we know."

"That doesn't make any sense, though." Lissa's frown deepened. "You can't exist here without existing out there."

"I can assure you—"

Lissa tossed a daisy at her. "Nope. No matter what you think, it won't work. What do you think a Mirror Realm is anyway? I mean, _it's in the name_."

"Neither my brother nor I have a counterpart here." The familiar pang in her heart whenever she thought of her brother made her wince. She twirled the daisy between her fingers. He always found everything interesting, and had especially loved it here.

"I'll get a niece and a nephew?" Lissa laughed. "That's a good start, and I can't wait to see how Chrom deals with fatherhood."

"He was an excellent father," Lucina said, tucking her hands primly in her lap.

"Was?"

Horsefeathers! How could she have—

"Ah, that's part of why you're here, isn't it?"

Lucina dropped her head into her hands. Her aunt had never been this perceptive, although, come to think of it, she might have just kept her observations to herself.

"I would tell you if I could," she whispered, faintly nauseous. What if she had inadvertently destroyed all hope of the future simply by being here? She couldn't deny how . . . nice it felt to share a little of the weight that had carved a place for itself on her shoulders.

Lucina startled when she felt an arm around her shoulder before Lissa pulled her in for a hug, but she kept her face hidden.

"This feels really weird to say considering that you're older than me at the moment, but I'm here for you, whoever you are—Marth isn't your real name, is it?"

Lucina shook her head, but didn't trust her voice.

Lissa giggled softly. "Yeah, you don't look like a Marth. I can't rule out my brother wanting to name you after the hero-king, but I can guarantee that Robin wouldn't let him go through with it."

Lucina sniffled as she thought of her parents and how they must have felt when they found out their family was going to grow. They must have been happy—she hoped they'd been happy—but that only made Grima's rise all the more terrible.

"It's okay," Lissa murmured. "If you have to be strong and brave every second of every day, your own ideals will eventually crush you. I really will be here for you. You don't even have to talk if you don't want to. But if you need a shoulder to cry on, I've got two."

Lucina hiccuped a sob as her aunt's words worked their way through the mortar of the wall she'd had to build around herself, and all the pain, the frustrations, the loss, came bubbling up to the surface in a ball of fire. Every memory she had, and all those she didn't, pierced her heart and came tumbling out with everything else.

Lissa didn't say anything else. She just patted Lucina on the arm and held her up while she came apart at the seams. And then, when she had finished, provided a handkerchief that looked more like a brightly colored hex than anything else.

Lucina smiled at it. How she had missed her aunt's embroidery. It wasn't beautiful in the conventional sense, but it had a pure, unbridled freedom about it that she'd always loved. A joy that couldn't be found in neat and even stitches and comprehensible patterns.

"You're family, so don't go thinking that you shouldn't bother us. You understand?"

It was then that Lucina recalled that her aunt had been a formidable healer long before she had ever held a weapon.

"I have to be careful," she tried to explain. "I've come to save the future, not destroy the past."

Lissa slipped the daisy crown over Lucina's blue locks and shook her head. "The future isn't any good without the present. If I find out you've been hoarding all your hurt again, you're going to be in big trouble!"

"Whose going to be in big trouble?" Chrom asked as he joined them. He handed the little book and an armful of what looked like weeds to his sister.

"Chrom, What on earth did you . . . ? Great, now I've got dirt all over my—You didn't even look at any of the pictures, did you?"

He shrugged. "One green thing looks a lot like another green thing. I figured the ones I found were close enough."

"Chrom!" Lissa groaned as she brushed the dirt from her skirts. "You just wait until the next time you have a cold and you have to use something I've made from these." She shook the weeds at him. "Then you can tell me all about close enough!"

Lucina slipped her mask back on while her aunt reprimanded her father. She looked at them one last time before she planned to melt away into the shadows.

"Wait." Her father caught her by the sleeve. A light blush dusted his cheeks, but his eyes were clear and bright. "When you see Robin again, would you tell her . . . tell her that I—we—miss her?"

Lucina forced her expression to remain impassive. She didn't like to think that there would be one Chrom whose heart would be broken.

"I will do what I can," she promised as she vanished in a cloud of butterflies.

* * *

A soft breeze rustled through the grass, making the daisies bob their heads as it swept past them. Robin might have been back in her field, but for the lack of sunshine and clover.

Then a weight landed on her chest, and she found herself blinking up at the lady from before, who was frowning at her and shaking dirt from her sleeves.

And using Robin as a cushion.

"The fault is mine. I did not intend to keep you for so long, but that boy is sorely trying my patience."

Robin wasn't quite sure what to say about that. Mostly she just wanted to breathe.

"As he won't listen to reason, it now falls upon you to fetch me and remind him of his duties. Do not keep me waiting."

What was left of her breath was smashed out of her as she opened her eyes for real this time. Inquisitive green eyes studied her before the little girl grinned and bounced in place.

"Daria, no, no, sweetie." Sumia smiled at Robin as she lifted the child away. "How are you feeling?"

 _Fine, I think_.

Robin sat up, raining daisies and little yellow buds.

"Chrom will be sorry he missed that," Lissa giggled as she came into the room. Delicious smells wafted off of the tray she was holding. "You look like a wood elf."

At the mention of Chrom, Robin's gaze darted over to Sumia, but her friend was trying to keep the child occupied while Lissa sat the tray on a little table.

Lissa put a hand to Robin's forehead. "How do you feel?"

Robin sighed as her stomach pinched itself against her spine. _Fine_.

"Right. Any dizziness? Double vision? Headaches? Does anything hurt?"

Robin shook her head, vaguely wondering what it would take to convince Lissa to let her eat first and answer questions later.

Something told her that whatever it was, she probably didn't have enough of it.

Lissa pursed her lips and studied her intently. "Huh. You'd think getting stabbed in the heart would have a few more side effects, but I guess Falchion _is_ special." She placed the tray in Robin's lap. "Just try sipping the broth first. I want to make sure you can keep everything down."

Robin stared at her, waiting for the punchline that didn't seem to be coming any time soon.

_What do you mean, stabbed in the heart?_

Lissa and Sumia exchanged a quick glance.

"Well, what do you remember?" Lissa fluffed up the pillows behind her before sitting down on a chair that had been pushed up against the bed.

It was hard, but Robin forced herself to sip the broth. _We were fighting Risen. I would have thought one got to me, but why would a Risen be carrying Falchion?_

Why indeed.

Lissa fretted nervously with the edge of her skirts. "So that's it? That's all you remember?"

Suddenly Robin wasn't so hungry anymore. She put down her half empty bowl.

 _Yes_.

"Haha, yes, well I think Chrom should be the one to go over this with you. He was there after all."

Narrowing her eyes, Robin set the tray aside and scooted down the mattress so she could get up.

"Wait! What are you doing?"

 _I'm going to see Chrom_.

"But you can't go. Not like that!"

For the first time, Robin looked down. She was wearing something more than a little frilly that was at least three sizes too big. Still, her modesty was intact.

And then some.

_Why not?_

Lissa shook her head. "At least give us some time to get some clothes for you."

From the way her stomach was starting to gurgle, Robin regretted eating as much as she had. _My old clothes are fine. Where are they?_

Lissa muttered something she couldn't quite make out, but Robin was almost positive she heard the word 'burned.'

"Sumia and I can run to the village, but you have to promise you'll stay in bed until we get back."

_Wait. What about my coat? If anyone burned my coat, you have my solemn vow that I'm going to—_

"It should be just about dry right now," Sumia said, tickling Daria. "We can bring it with your clothes."

Robin sagged with relief. Her coat was safe then. Although it nettled her that she was so attached to it. She was a tactician, for goodness sake. And a war was coming. Making it through in one piece was more important than the well-being of a single article of clothing.

Wasn't it?

She shook her head. Regardless of the current mess, there was still something she needed to do.

 _Sumia_.

Sumia picked the little girl up and bounced her on her hip. Her expression softened. "Just focus on getting better, okay?"

Before Robin knew what hit her, Lissa and Sumia had gone and the little girl was sitting in her lap.

So, Daria, was it? Robin frowned. What on earth was she supposed to do with a toddler? They had no real way to communicate, and yet she couldn't deny that it was relaxing to watch Daria pick up the flowers, consider each one in turn, before separating them into piles.

She wasn't even aware she'd dozed off until the little urchin had plonked the little wooden dragon she'd carved onto the center of her face.

Clapping her hand over her nose, Robin bolted upright.

"Nononono no!" Daria lunged forward to grab her dragon. Once she was certain it was all right, she pushed it into Robin's hand.

Deciding it was probably safer to play along, Robin solemnly regarded the dragon before handing it back.

Daria shook her head. "Nono. Fwhy. Fwhy." Then, apparently coming to the conclusion she was dealing with a halfwit, she "flew" the dragon through a few loop-de-loops before pressing it back into Robin's hands.

Ah.

Bringing Miriel's modified Wind spell to the forefront of her mind, Robin made sure the correct rings were in place before she ordered the Wind to fly the dragon before landing it gently on Daria's head.

The little girl laughed with delight as she took her turn "flying" the dragon. When she plonked the dragon back in Robin's hands, Robin knew exactly what to do next.

By the time Sumia and Lissa reappeared, Robin had mastered doing multiple loop-de-loops and was perfecting her zig-zag.

"No wonder why she wanted you to stay at her house," Lissa laughed as she draped a bundle of clothing over the back of the chair.

"My sisters would have loved that," Sumia said as she traced the dragon's flight pattern with her eyes. "When they were younger."

"Chrom would have killed for something like that when he was a kid. How long have you been doing that anyway?"

By way of an answer, Robin directed the Wind to land the dragon on Lissa's head.

Lissa stuck her tongue out and put her hands on her hips. "That's what I thought." She snatched the dragon off her head and handed it back to Daria once Sumia had picked her up. "We'll be just outside. Call us if you need anything."

Robin waited until the door was shut before she attempted to stand. As much as she wanted to see Chrom, her head was still on the fence over whether it was going to go with dizzy or not. She slipped into the simple white underdress easily enough, and to her delight, the dark blue dress had just enough fabric in the skirts to afford a fairly decent swish. She ignored a lacy little cap, an apron, and the hose once she realized there were no shoes to go along with her dress.

She saved the best for last, and felt a little more like herself when she slipped her arms into her coat. It smelled a little more of lemons than clover, but it was hers and everything in her pockets was intact.

Ha! Now that she was, mostly, properly attired, she was going to get the rest of the story from Chrom. But first—

True to their word, Lissa, Sumia, and Daria were waiting right outside her door.

_Where is Falchion?_

Lissa hid her giggle behind her hand while Sumia found the tips of her boots too mesmerizing to look away from.

"She was guarding the watermelon patch last I heard." Lissa's grin told her there was a story behind _that_ that she'd want to hear later.

But first things first.

 _To the garden_.

"Sure you don't want to talk to my brother first?"

Robin just crossed her arms and _looked_ at Lissa.

"Fine. Fine." Lissa held up her hands before leading the way. "It's just that it will make a lot more sense if you hear it from Chrom first."

The garden wasn't far from the cottage, and the stone path leading to it was nice enough that it didn't hurt Robin's feet.

"Fwhy! Fwhy!" Daria demanded, holding out her dragon.

Sumia laughed. "I can't make your dragon fly like Robin can, but I can make _you_ fly."

Tightening her grip, Sumia darted about, spinning and skipping, their laughter filling the air. If Robin hadn't been feeling so off-center, she might have joined in on the fun.

They entered what seemed like an ordinary garden at first. Rows of ripening melons and deep red tomatoes greeted them. Robin frowned as an odd shape caught her attention. Surely that wasn't . . .

Bunching up her skirts, she sprinted over to where Falchion was—or the hilt, at least. For some incomprehensible reason, someone had buried it up to the hilt in dirt and deep green leaves.

"Robin, wait! Falchion really doesn't like to be—huh." Lissa slid to a stop behind her.

Robin cleaned the dirt from the blade as best she could. What had possessed Chrom to do such a thing? She stiffened as a few more dots connected. And why was Chrom's sword sending dreams to her?

She turned to her friends, waiting.

"I should get this little one back to her mama." Sumia nuzzled Daria's face with her own. "I'll catch up with you later?"

Robin put out her hand, but Sumia shook her head. "It's all right, Robin. I promise."

But was it? From where she stood, Sumia fairly shimmered with secrets, and Robin didn't want to cause her friend anymore pain if she could help it.

"She's telling you the truth," Lissa murmured before tugging on her arm. "C'mon. I'll take you to my brother."

Still not convinced, Robin waved to both of them before Sumia flew Daria back to . . . wherever she was headed.

"Just to give you fair warning, you should probably proceed with caution, so far as Falchion is concerned." Lissa winced. "Chrom's not too happy with her at the moment."

 _So I gathered_. Robin shook her head. She had just been minding her own business, yet here she was, trying to brook peace between a man and his sword.

It took a little longer to find Chrom than it had Falchion. The reason became apparent once they reached a little rise and were able to see down past the fields. A number of villagers were running through drills with the Shepherds.

"My brother may be a dunder head at times, but he usually gets the important things right," Lissa said with no small amount of pride.

Robin rested Falchion against her and massaged her wrist. It made a kind of sense that an overbearing sword would be heavy. Chrom always made it look like Falchion weighed next to nothing whenever he swung her, so Robin had never truly appreciated the sword's heft before now.

"What are you doing here?" Lon'qu stepped out of the shadows, but maintained a healthy distance between them and himself.

"Oh, hey there, Lon'qu." Lissa was suddenly all little yellow butterflies as she batted her eyes in the myrmidon's direction. "Fancy meeting you out here. On the perimeter."

He folded his arms and his frown deepened. "You were there when the lieutenant went over our assignments this morning."

A light blush dusted Lissa's cheeks, but her eyes were so full of stars, Robin doubted anyone would notice.

"You were looking for me?" Lissa giggled.

"That's not what I—"

"Oh, that's so sweet, Lon'qu."

Completely blindsided, he retreated into silence, and it looked like he was using every bit of his willpower to remain in place.

Robin wanted to have mercy on him, but she wasn't sure whether or not he'd had time to learn any of her signs, and things were already beyond awkward as they were.

She held up Falchion and gestured to it.

Lon'qu's eyes widened for a moment before he went back to his usual impervious self. "The captain is training in the fourth quadrant. I am not certain he will be happy to see that again."

Robin blinked at him. Most of their communication had consisted of her passing him notes and him grunting in affirmation. This was . . . rather disconcerting, to say the least. She glanced at Lissa who so caught up in staring that she'd likely missed the entire exchange.

She nodded and curtseyed before heading off in the direction he'd indicated. Her arms had gone a little wobbly, so she ended up dragging Falchion along with her. If the edge turned blunt, then maybe that would teach the sword a thing or two about patience. It would also serve to remind Chrom that swords were to be sheathed properly, not buried in the garden.

More importantly, maybe it would convince Falchion to draw from a better pool of intermediaries.

"Hey, Robin! Wait for me!" Lissa called as she hurried to catch up.

Falchion wasn't really built to lean on, and Robin was only taller than the sword by a head or two, so she just waited as she was. She also made a note to ask Frederick for advice on strengthening her arms and wrists.

Lissa's eyes, when she reached her, were wide, but she was grinning. "Did you see that? He noticed me! Not only that, but he stood half an inch closer than usual!"

Robin wasn't exactly sure what she was supposed to do in this situation. She wanted to cheer Lissa on, but she couldn't ignore the ball of nerves and dread Lon'qu turned into whenever any of the female Shepherds got too close.

But if anyone could push him past those fears, Lissa could.

She smiled at Lissa and nodded in Chrom's direction. The sooner she got to him, the sooner the bossy sword could leave her be.

Lissa skipped beside her, chattering about Lon'qu, the village, Lon'qu, how happy she was that Maribelle was safe, and Lon'qu.

By the time they had reached what Robin guessed was the fourth quadrant, she knew nearly as much about their Feroxi recruit as Lissa did—and considering Lissa had worked out that his favorite animal was likely a turtle, his favorite color red, and his favorite food some sort of ginger-flavored soup neither of them could pronounce, it was distinctly possible that they knew more about him than the man did himself.

_Your attention to detail is very good, but how on earth did you find all that out?_

Lissa shrugged and waved a hand. "Oh, you know. I just, um, pay attention."

Robin laughed silently and shook her head. _You would make a terrifying spy if you put your mind to it_.

"Really?"

Robin narrowed her eyes. Lissa looked far too interested than was good for her, and it hadn't escaped her attention that much of what Lissa had based her assumptions on had likely required her to keep a close eye on Lon'qu.

The sort of eye that one developed covertly.

With a great deal of persistence.

 _Just don't tell your brother I said so_.

"Robin?"

She froze at the sound of his voice, color flooding her face as she realized a simple fact.

She had missed him.

"Since you won't be needing me now, I think I'll go practice those reconnaissance skills we were talking about." Lissa winked at her before heading back the way they'd come.

She turned then, to get a good look at him. His gaze darkened and his jaw tightened when he noticed who else she'd brought with her, but other than that, he looked pleased to see her.

Robin moved to speak just as her mind went blank, and she couldn't fall back on discussing the weather because she hadn't really noticed what it was doing before. So she nodded toward the large area they'd turned into a training ground.

 _You've been keeping busy_.

He swallowed hard and nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're awake."

 _Apparently I needed more beauty sleep than usual_. She smiled at him, inviting him to laugh at the joke with her, but his expression went bleak. She shifted her weight from her right foot to her left foot, self-conscious. _You're staring at me like you've seen a ghost_.

"I almost did."

Ah.

Robin put a hand to her chest. She kept forgetting. _I'm fine. I promise_.

He shook his head, but he was smiling. "You should probably be resting."

 _I was, until this sword of yours demanded I come fetch her. I never expected to find her in a watermelon patch_.

Chrom started to say something about the sea, but the moment his fingers touched her shoulders, Falchion twisted out of her grasp and into the woman from her dream.

The hum of a magic strong enough to reorder the worlds around them buzzed against their teeth and fingertips, and jittered in a thready rhythm in the space between their heartbeats.

Chrom pulled her close to him, and shifted so he stood between her and Falchion. "What are you doing?"

"Time is drawing short, and you've had time enough to come to your senses."

"Me come to _my_ senses?" Chrom's voice had turned soft, but sharp.

A look of irritation flashed across Falchion's face. "I did what was necessary. I will always do what is necessary to keep Ylisse safe."

"Not to Robin, you won't!"

Robin put one hand to the spot on her chest that tingled right above her heart, and the other on Chrom's arm. She could almost remember the flash of silver. It had pierced her heart, but she'd been too preoccupied with the Risen and what could have been her twin to notice that she was in danger of dying.

The memory she hadn't noticed hammered against her thoughts. It had hurt a great deal, and a shadow of the pain lanced through her for three heartbeats before it faded.

"How else did you expect me to speak to her? She is not of my bloodline."

Blood.

There had been a great deal of blood.

Robin swayed on her feet as her memories threatened to overwhelm her. The one thing that held her steady was her connection to Chrom, that and a bright spark of fury.

Falchion had stabbed.

Her.

In.

The.

Heart.

"You could always try speaking to me."

If Robin hadn't been consumed by her own fury, she would have been impressed with Chrom's. What it lacked in volume, it more than made up for in quantity.

Falchion sighed. "I'm afraid that the threat to Ylisse is greater and more complicated than you realize. Your fates have become tangled to such a degree that there is no speaking to one without the other.

"Unless, of course, only one of you is listening."

The pointed look she gave him warned Robin that her edge was as sharp as it ever had been.

"Wait. Tangled?"

There was a soft, hopeful note to his question that summoned all the draco-flies in Robin's stomach.

Falchion nodded. "It is as you believe."

Impossibly, a bright smile spread across Chrom's lips until his whole face seemed aglow.

Robin tugged on his cape. _Care to fill me in?_

Her question brought an immediate blush to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Falchion simply smirked.

Chrom turned to look at her, and the expression in his eyes was enough to bring an answering blush of her own.

"You are my other half," he said simply, twining his fingers through hers. "Together, there isn't anything we cannot do."

Robin canted her head as his words seeped into her soul. They hadn't been carved entirely into truth yet, but the potential was there. It practically shimmered.

There were so many things she wanted to tell him, but she didn't want to let go of his hands. When he bent his head toward hers, she realized that a lot could be said without using any words at all.

Somehow, he managed to convey that he'd missed her, he was glad she was doing better, and hope for the future in a single kiss. She'd have to ask Miriel how that worked later on.

For now, they needed to focus.

"It is important that your bonds be strong if you are to face what is coming."

 _What is coming,_ she asked _. Plegia?_

Chrom's arm tightened around her, but his presence was reassuring.

"It might be better if I show you." Falchion waved a hand, and the fields and village dissolved into sandy dunes and craggy mountains in the distance.

Robin frowned. The landscape seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place it.

"Plegia," Chrom whispered, his voice hoarse and his eyes wide. He shook his head. "Thabes."

"Yes." Falchion was watching them carefully, her own thoughts hidden behind half closed eyes.

The ground beneath them trembled. Then shook. Chrom caught Robin as she stumbled, then pulled her against his side.

"Why are we here?"

Falchion simply watched them, her face carefully blank.

Just as Chrom looked like he had made up his mind to demand Falchion return them to Ylisse, the ground before them erupted as the head of a dragon exploded out of the sand.

The head was followed by a neck and then the first set of wings. The dragon reared back, its mouth wide open as it screamed into the sky—a sound like the earth shattering into pieces.

Robin almost slipped from Chrom's grasp when her body went rigid as she contorted backward. Pale purple markings bled down her cheeks and her vision took on a reddish hue. She could feel them forming, could feel her body changing with the appearance of the dragon.

Chrom cradled her and bent over to protect her as best he could. He crouched low to the ground to avoid being thrown off his feet. Robin squinted against the cloud of dust hanging low and covering everything in confusion. Where was Falchion? Had she betrayed them?

One by one, the stars fell from the sky. Streaking through her vision before plowing large craters into the sand. One landed close enough to throw pillars of earth toward the sky, only to rain down on them and steal their breath away.

Chrom squeezed his eyes shut and bent over Robin, whispering a prayer to Naga they'd survive.

"Um, Captain, you okay?" Stahl's voice filtered through the dragon's scream of defiance.

Hoping against hope, Robin cracked one eye open, then the other. A loose ring of Shepherds had formed around them. Robin pushed against Chrom, smacking his shoulder with her free arm to get him to let go of her before she suffocated.

He sat up and let go, falling backward onto the ground. Robin reached for him with one hand while the other went to her face. The hot lines that had appeared on her cheeks had vanished, and she could only hope that meant she looked normal.

"We're back," he murmured. "We're safe." He had a wariness behind his dazed expression, which was only fair considering his sword had nearly been the death of them.

Speaking of Falchion . . .

Robin twisted around, only to find the sword leaning against a tree a few feet away. The edge caught a bit of sunlight that gleamed down the blade, and somehow managed to make Falchion look far more smug than a sword had any business looking.

Falchion who had stabbed her in the heart.

Who had whisked them away without warning.

Who had taken them to Plegia, of all places, where they'd almost been eaten by the skeletal remains of a very angry dragon.

Robin had coiled and sprung before she'd realized it, and it was only by the grace of Chrom's lightning fast reflexes that he'd been able to grab her before she'd done something foolish.

Like tackling a sword that had already warned her she was far more than a decorated weapon. And had already proved that she had no compunction against running her through.

"You're safe, Robin," he murmured into her ear. "That's all that matters." He looked her in the eye and didn't let go until much of the fight had gone out of her.

But once the fury had drained away, it left her feeling cold, and helpless, and shaky.

With a whisper of silk, Chrom unhooked his cloak and wrapped it about her shoulders. He leaned his forehead against hers, closed his eyes, and let out another sigh of relief.

Robin released a sigh of her own and relaxed into his arms. He was right. They were safe, and that's all that mattered. They would sort out Falchion later.

"And _that_ is what chivalry looks like," Sully observed, "Ruffles."

"Nah," Vaike laughed. "Chrom just likes to nap."

Both their eyes popped open, and Robin tried to spring away, but only ended up tangling herself in Chrom's cloak and pinning her arms to her sides.

The color of mortification was a bright, bright red and it smelled of bitter frost.

Robin shut her eyes against the laughter and good natured ribbing that followed Vaike's declaration.

How could they have forgotten they had an audience?

Chrom fumbled with the material, and only ended up tangling his cloak even worse. "Sorry, Robin. I didn't mean—that is to say, what I was trying to do—I'll have you freed in a moment. I swear!"

Robin sighed and accepted she was going to be stuck a little bit longer. She glanced at Falchion who was still leaning against the tree.

The edge of the blade caught another ray of sunlight and winked at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Chrom. What do you do when you usually deal with stress by taking out a few practice dummies, but you're short on dummies and you aren't talking to your sword? One of my favorite things about his character is that hopeful optimism he has that becomes a force of its own. Despite his desire to brood, he isn't really good at it. Mainly, I think, because to properly brood, one must remain fairly still as one stares off into the distance of one's misfortunes. Chrom's more of a do-er than a brooder anyhow.
> 
> As Lucina discovered, boundaries are about to get a whole lot messier. Lissa, in both worlds, is also more of a do-er than a brooder, so you can bet there are going to be some complications coming up soon. It was nice, though, giving Lucina someone she can lean on for a change. :)
> 
> I can't remember if I was working on this chapter or the next, but I finally got to see how Robin tries to resolve things between her and Sumia. It's not going to go anything like Robin planned on, but she'll finally get to talk to Sumia about the Chrom situation. *apologies to Robin in advance* *covertly slips one of those bags they keep on airplanes into one of her pockets* O:)
> 
> I never thought I'd write a story where a sword becomes the elephant in the room, but here we are. I have no idea *why* Falchion can do what she does yet, but I'm sure that's coming at some point. Being a part of Naga, I never expected her to be so . . . bossy. Pushy. Meddlesome. Pick your adjective, and it probably fits. I am enjoying the things only a sentient sword can bring to the table though. :)
> 
> One of my favorite parts about this chapter was the book Frederick and Lissa gave to the Chroms. I hadn't set out to mirror the book consciously, so I'm very glad that my subconscious is the one calling the shots. Something tells me, though, that poetry would be lost on Chrom for the most part. :p
> 
> As always, thank you for stopping by and spending some time in my world. You are awesome, and I'm grateful to have you as a reader! Thank you and have a great week!


	32. Chapter Thirty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. The really weird stuff is probably me. :D

The next few days passed in a blur of activity. Chrom and the rest of the Shepherds continued to train the villagers, along with a number of others who had come from the surrounding area.

Robin spent most of the time flying the dragon for Daria, and plotting—both for future campaigns and escaping from Lissa and Maribelle's watchful eye.

A thing much easier said than done. Apparently both were content enough to sit around and gossip, which would have left them idle had they not had someone to look after.

The might of their combined attention was bad enough—often foiling her escape before she'd even put her plan into action—but what made it worse was they were obeying a direct order from Chrom himself.

He'd finally pulled rank on her when he'd discovered her "resting" face down in a strawberry patch. If he'd been Miriel, she could have distracted him with a question about obscure strawberrian lore. Having absolutely no curiosity so far as the strawberries were concerned, he'd sentenced Robin to spend what remained of their time in the village resting.

And then he'd picked the two Shepherds most likely to ensure her compliance to look after her.

Virion had brought out his chess set, and Robin was almost certain Chrom had employed his aid as well. Break the prisoner's spirit, and you didn't have to worry about chains and bars—or, in this case, overzealous healers.

Robin stared dumbly at Virion's queen. She had only just captured the piece, and could almost taste victory. Until Virion had done something involving his castle and a knight, ending with her king cornered with nowhere to run and no allies close enough to make a difference.

 _If this were real life, my king would call a dragon down on your head_. She crossed her arms and glared at him. Like chess, she had not yet mastered grace in defeat. _Blast your army six ways past Sunday!_

Virion had the temerity to laugh. "I much appreciate your warning, ma chérie, and will make certain each of my soldiers has a wyrmslayer at their disposal should we ever come to blows."

Only through exercising great restraint did Robin manage to hand Virion his queen instead of throwing it at that smug little grin of his. _I don't understand. I'm a tactician. This should be easy!_

Virion chuckled. "You do not give yourself enough credit. You play well for a beginner, I just happen to be a master."

Taking a page from Lissa's book, Robin hunched her shoulders and stuck her tongue out at him.

He didn't even bother to hide his smirk. "Now that you've gotten that out of your system, perhaps we should join the others."

That got her attention. _Chrom has relented?_

Virion laughed again. "I would not say as much, no."

_Then what do you mean? I just had to lose enough games to earn my freedom?_

"Say rather that I have served my purpose as a diversionary tactic." He held out his arm as she got to her feet. "A most pleasurable way to pass the time, I might add."

Robin frowned. _Chrom wouldn't have thought to do something like that_.

"Our captain has many fine qualities, but a master tactician he is not," Virion agreed as he escorted her through the cottage and out into the square where their convoy and the rest of the Shepherds were loitering.

_But a master chess player might come up with something like that._

"It is quite possible."

Robin had a sudden pang of empathy for her king.

"I wouldn't fret too much, ma chérie." Virion released her arm and bowed. "The captain was simply wise enough to know that if you wish to out maneuver your tactician, it is best to send in a master of chess."

"Robin, it is good to see you on your feet again," Frederick greeted her. He and Virion exchanged nods before the latter went off in search of Sully.

She studied him for a long moment. _It was your idea, wasn't it?_

Frederick's grin came and went quickly enough that she would have missed it if she hadn't been looking for it. "Advising milord is one of my duties, yes."

Ha! That was as good as a confession! _Where is he?_

"Robin?"

She whirled around. _You—!_ She spluttered helplessly as he put a hand on each shoulder and looked into her eyes.

His eyes were such a pure blue that it was so very easy to get lost in them. Her thoughts quietly eroded away until she could bask in the light of his gaze. The world filled with draco-flies, each happily belching little purple flames in their ode to sunlight.

Frederick cleared his throat. "Milord."

The spell broken, Robin could only blink into the aftermath. She had meant to speak her mind hadn't she?

Chrom laughed softly, his face a blazing sunset. "I'm glad to see you."

By the time Robin remembered she was annoyed with him, it was time to leave. The whole village turned out to see them off, and there was a hint of merriment in the air.

Robin put a hand to her chest as an odd sort of pang settled in next to her heart. Despite only having ever been in this place for less than a week, it felt strangely like she was leaving a piece of her heart behind.

She was lost in her thoughts until she heard the cry of, "Fwhy! Fwhy!" Turning back, she flew a freshly carved dragon to Daria one last time.

The little girl's face lit up as a slightly smaller dragon landed in the cup of her hands, carved to fit perfectly at the side of the first dragon.

* * *

Lissa frowned down at her embroidery. She'd been at it all morning, but she'd been so distracted by her thoughts that she might as well have been making stitches while blindfolded.

"Fairy tales aren't supposed to be complicated," she muttered to a vermilion strand of silk she was in the process of unpicking. "The hero comes, passes a few tests, kills the dragon, and then gets the girl. Why can't real life be like that?"

"Like what?" Emm was smiling as she entered the little corner of the castle Lissa had claimed as her thinking place. It was small, more of a closet with windows really, but always warm and at just the right angle to catch sunlight throughout most of the day. It was also littered with pillows and cushions of every size that she had made over the years.

Lissa sighed and shoved her embroidery aside. "Sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."

Emm sat down next to her, elegant, graceful, and perfect posture. Lissa had tried mimicking her older sister from the time she could walk, but had never been able to master the particular grace that came easy as breathing to Emm.

"It's always nice to take a little break from court. But what is troubling you so? This?" Emm picked up Lissa's embroidery, her brows furrowed as she started to unknot the threads.

Lissa sighed. "No. Just something Marth said."

She settled back into her nest of pillows. There was something relaxing about watching Emm slowly and patiently bring order to the chaos as she separated the colors and threads and removed them from the fabric.

"I have heard a great deal about this Marth of yours, but I'm afraid I've never met him."

"He's actually a she." Lissa giggled. "And she happens to be Chrom's daughter."

Emm's movements didn't falter. "Indeed? How does Chrom feel about this?"

Lissa slapped her hands over her mouth as she remembered too late that it was supposed to be a secret. But with Emm, the damage had already been done. "He doesn't know. He's not supposed to know, not until he and Robin choose each other for sure. It sounded like that part was pretty important."

"Ah." A soft smile spread across Emm's face. "I had noticed there was an air of . . . anxiety about him as of late. I am happy to know this isn't the cause."

"No, but Marth better let me be there when she tells him. Can you imagine?"

To Lissa's surprise, Emm giggled.

"Something along the lines of the rose arbor he obliterated during training?"

"Or the statue he beheaded in the gardens. I'm still upset that I was too young to remember the look on his face!"

Emm smiled as she rested Lissa's work on her lap and stared out the window. "Those were definitely anxious times. I sometimes wonder if they were here to prepare us, to prepare all of Ylisse, for what is coming."

"Marth said something about a Grima." Lissa furrowed her brow as she tried to recall what she had said exactly. "Grima luring Robin into a trap. And something about Falchion and a counteroffensive."

As she pressed herself to remember, the other two things Marth had told her stood out starkly from the rest. Chrom couldn't die and they couldn't lose Robin, especially since she belonged here with them. A Grima squishing Chrom wouldn't devastate him nearly so much as losing Robin would.

Lissa squeezed fistfuls of her skirts. "I just want to do . . . something. Anything that can help."

Emm hummed to herself as she went back to unpicking Lissa's embroidery mishaps. "What do you have in mind?"

"I dunno." She smoothed her skirts, miserable. Why did they have to take Robin when she didn't belong to that world? Why did her brother have to suffer so some other Chrom could have what he wanted?

"I hope you aren't planning on taking up arms. At least not until you've completed training with Frederick." Finished untangling the vermillion thread, Emm rolled it into a small hank and set it aside.

"No. I mean, at some point I have to, just in case I'll have to fight the Grima. I'm not ready for that yet though." She glowered at her memory of Marth. If they could just see that they couldn't go around realm-napping people . . . "I think," she said slowly as an idea formed, "that I just wish certain people could see things more clearly. Think through to the consequences, you know?"

"I think that is very commendable." Emm finished freeing a violet thread and rolled it into a matching hank. "Clarity of the situation can be difficult to come by, but I believe that most people are good. And that, if given the choice, they would choose truth over anything else."

"I think so too," Lissa said, no longer feeling quite so weighed down. Being her brother's counterpart meant that the Chrom in the other realm had to be pretty amazing too. Surely he would see reason if he understood the situation. And who knew? Maybe that was just what he needed to motivate him to find the Robin of his realm.

And if her brother's reaction to Robin was anything to go off of, the Chrom of the other realm was probably already putty in her hands.

So that meant showing Robin the truth first, which should be easy enough. She already knew about this realm and she had seemed pretty comfortable in it—when she wasn't on the verge of dying.

Headless of her embroidery, Lissa threw her arms around Emm's neck. Her big sister was the best sister in any realm, and she should have gone to her first instead of stewing. "Thanks, Emm. I don't know what I would do without you."

"I don't plan on going anywhere any time soon," Emm said as she returned the hug. "By the time you have to worry about that, it will be long past the time you are standing steady on your own two feet."

"You'd better, because then Lord One-Green-Thing-Is-Like-Another-Green-Thing would be in charge."

They both giggled at their brother's expense, but there was something a little different in Emm's laugh than before. A kind of weight that was a slightly different shade. But before Lissa could inquire, Emm stood up and smoothed her skirts.

"I'm afraid I need to get back to court, but I'm very happy I got to spend some time with you." Emm stepped carefully over to the doorway.

"Me too. And Emm," she wait until her sister turned to look over her shoulder, "don't let them boss you around too much."

Emm smiled and nodded before going on her way.

Lissa grabbed her embroidery and stuffed it into her apron pocket. Now that she had a plan, she felt energized. Maybe she could also work something out to help the other Chrom find his proper Robin.

Then everyone could get their fairy tale ending.

Heart filled with determination, Lissa went off in search of Miriel.

* * *

There were few things more perfect than that morning. The sun was brilliant, but not blinding. The air smelled of earth and, faintly, of rain. Together with the Shepherds, Chrom was finally able to act more directly to help Ylisse prepare for all that was coming. There would be hardship, yes, but there would also be joy.

And Robin was smiling and carrying on as before.

Chrom hadn't realized how much he'd worried that Falchion's meddling would have permanent and severe consequences on Robin until he'd taken a breath and found that the iron bands about his lungs had all but gone.

"Milord seems pleased," Frederick commented with a wry glance in his direction.

"Well, that's because it's a beautiful day." Despite the veracity if his statement, the tips of his ears burned bright red. He glanced over his shoulder only to meet Robin's inquisitive gaze. He ducked his head almost immediately, and stumbled a few steps before finding his equilibrium.

Frederick, who had watched everything with no small amusement, made no comment.

"How far is it until our destination?" Chrom asked, mostly in an effort to forget the last several seconds. Not that it would do him any good if anyone but Frederick had noticed.

Frederick raised a brow. "We have only just left the village half an hour ago, Milord. We still have a ways yet to go."

"O-of course." He pressed his hand against the back of his neck in a futile effort to stop it from burning as well. It was strange how everything had suddenly become awkward between Robin and himself, except for when it wasn't.

Was that what it meant to court someone?

Fighting was so much more straight forward. The moment the enemy appeared, you simply hit him until he stoped moving, and then move on to the next one.

On the battlefield, you knew where you stood. But off it?

Chrom sighed as he allowed his gaze to be drawn back down the column. As the captain, it was his duty to make sure everything was in order. So really, he was just fulfilling his responsibility.

He flexed his fingers a little as he walked, remembering how impossibly small her hand felt in his, but also how soft. Thanks to Frederick's training, she'd gained some callouses on her palm and fingers, but they were different from, say, Vaike's or his own. He wasn't sure how, exactly, only that he preferred Robin's to anyone else's.

"Has Milord gone over our plans with our tactician?" Frederick asked, his eyes studiously on the reports he was reading while they traveled.

Chrom's steps faltered. "Not yet, no."

"Hmmm."

In truth, between taking measures to ensure Robin rested and training the villagers, he'd hardly had time enough to greet her, let alone go over the deceptively simple plans he'd drawn up.

There were more villages than there was time, which meant figuring out the key villages to visit and organizing efforts to bring in those from the surrounding areas to train as well.

He glanced at Frederick from the corner of his eye. "Do you recommend speaking with her now?"

Frederick was silent for a long moment. "With someone like Robin, the _when_ is very nearly as important as the _what_. The longer she has to prepare and study, the fewer nights she'll try to cram everything into."

Chrom mulled over Frederick's recommendation. Probably the only thing Robin cared for less than resting was being surprised. And with the long march they had ahead of them, now would be the ideal time for her to work.

"All right." He turned and signaled to Stahl.

"Yes, Captain?" Stahl asked around a mouthful of something that looked suspiciously like pie.

"Let Robin know I need to speak with her."

"Sure thing, Captain." Stahl didn't bother to hide his grin—which was fairly representative of the Shepherds as a whole.

Chrom wasn't sure whether he should be pleased that everyone was happy for him or annoyed with the winners of a bet he'd found out about that had placed his odds of romantic entanglements any time soon fairly low.

It wasn't, Vaike had assured him, because he was ugly or anything. More so that he was the sort of person arranged marriages had been created for to make it easier for everyone involved. Chrom frowned, still more than a little annoyed. Of course he'd notice if he liked someone or if someone liked him. It wasn't like he was completely oblivious.

He glanced up when Robin tapped his arm.

_If you wanted to try to talk me into riding on one of the supply wagons, then let me tell you—_

"What?" He blinked. "No. Nothing like that at all."

Although now that he was paying attention, Robin did look a little ragged along the edges.

She smoothed her sleeve. _Good. I just wanted to get that out of the way_.

"Ah." Chrom laughed weakly. "I thought you'd forgiven me for ordering you to rest."

Robin smoothed her other sleeve. _Do not mistake my silence on the matter as forgiven or forgotten. In this situation, revenge must be handled delicately_.

His heart thudded heavily in his chest, and Chrom could almost see the diabolical schemes running through her mind. He must have looked properly horrified, because when she finally did glance up at him, her grim expression splintered into silent laughter.

Chrom huffed a sigh of relief. "You know, I thought you were serious there for a minute."

For some reason, that only made her laugh harder. Even Frederick, who was occupied with keeping Quicksilver at a healthy distance away, was having a hard time keeping keeping a straight face.

"Yes, well," Chrom cleared his throat, mindful that more than one Shepherd was watching, "I would like your opinion on the plans I've drawn up for us in the future. Figuring in travel time and how long it will take to prepare, I believe we can have the most necessary things in place within a month or two."

Frederick and Stahl had a sudden coughing fit, and seemed unusually interested in their horses' tack. When Robin didn't answer, he glanced down at her, perplexed. Her lips were pressed into a tight line and most of her face had gone a bright crimson.

Had something happened?

"Robin?"

When she finally looked up at him, she kept her gaze fixed somewhere over his left shoulder.

_Don't you think this is a little sudden? I mean, there's the court to consider among . . . other things._

"Sudden?" He furrowed his brow. "There's a war coming. If anything, we're moving too slow. I'm sure Emm has made the court aware of our situation, and I doubt many of them would even think to complain."

Robin's blush intensified as she gaped at him. _Is there another court I don't know about? Because the court I_ do _know about had very specific objections_.

"Why would they object? It isn't as though we've really been given any choice in the matter. Sometimes fate pushes us in a direction regardless of anything we might do to prevent it."

_So you . . . feel like this is something you have to do? Not something you would choose?_

Chrom frowned. Robin wasn't making any sense. Was she more tired than she had let on? He spared a glance in Falchion's direction, but she was quiet and seemed to be behaving herself.

"What person would ever willingly choose this fate?"

For some reason his statement shocked Robin into looking at him. Her complexion had gone ashen, and he wondered if he should insist on having her ride in one of the wagons. She had most likely been teasing him about taking revenge.

 _Why didn't you say something sooner? If I had known you felt this way . . ._ She dropped her gaze _. I misunderstood. I'm sorry._

Chrom had no idea what to say to that. She knew, better than everyone, the enemy they would be facing.

"Perhaps you might go over the information we've gathered, Robin." Frederick stepped in, holding out a sheaf of papers. "They detail all of the plans we've drawn up for the Shepherds. It has been Milord's intention to ready as many villages as possible for the looming war. There won't be enough time to ready every village, so we've had to prioritize which will most likely be in the direct path the Plegians will take.

Robin snapped her head up as she accepted the papers. _This was all about the war?_

Frederick gave her a rare smile. "Indeed."

A number of varied emotions flickered across Robin's face in rapid succession. Chrom watched in fascination. It was still a little hard to believe that she—

—was walking away.

"Ro—"

"Let her go, Milord," Frederick murmured, catching him by the arm.

Chrom's frown deepened. "But she looks . . ." A dark miasma seemed to hang over Robin's slender form as she stalked away. "Upset."

The absence of Frederick's sigh was loud enough to draw Chrom's attention away from Robin.

"What?"

Frederick pinched the bridge of his nose while he ordered his thoughts. "Did you ever explicitly state your objectives?"

Chrom blinked. Of course he'd stated his objectives. They should have been blindingly obvious to anyone, and Robin wasn't just anyone. There were times when it felt as though they didn't need to communicate using words. So much could be conveyed in a simple glance.

"Think carefully," Frederick went on, "about what you actually said."

"I'm not following." Chrom's brow furrowed as he mentally replayed what had just happened. "I told her I would like her to review our plans."

" _Our_ plans, Milord?"

Chrom rested his hand on Falchion. "I might have said my plans."

"Your plans concerning what?"

"Frederick."

"Please humor me, Milord."

Had something happened to Frederick as well? This conversation was bringing back memories of tutors and piles of books he was expected to ingest. He could almost smell the layers of ink and dust.

"I simply asked Robin to look over the plans I'd drawn up for our . . . future—-" A pit opened up in his gut as his words twisted sideways and he finally caught their meaning. "Oh."

Chrom glanced at Frederick from the corner of his eyes. "You don't think Robin—" Icy horror crushed his thoughts.

"Indeed."

This was worse than accidentally beheading the statue of the first Exalt in front of both the court and his newly crowned sister.

And then the entirety of their conversation hit him. The look she'd given him when she thought he'd—

"I have to—"

"Let her go, Milord," Frederick repeated quietly. Then, when Chrom moved to sidestep him, "While it is admirable to attend to any misunderstandings swiftly, it is sometimes wiser to allow tempers to cool first."

Chrom growled something even he didn't understand. A kind of panic beat against his heart with tiny wings, certain that he'd just lost something irreplaceably precious.

He squeezed his hand into a fist. No. It was a waste of energy to jump at every shadow. He would have to trust in both Robin and their bond. Frederick's intervention had set her straight, and in the case that she had any doubts, he'd be sure to put all of them to rest later.

When the eye of every Shepherd wasn't upon them.

"If you have the time, Milord, perhaps you might look over Sumia's reports." Frederick handed him a thick sheaf of papers. "With a bit more training, I believe she will make an exemplary scout. Her attention to detail is quite remarkable."

Judging by the heft of her reports, Chrom didn't doubt it.

He'd just resigned himself to spending the next few leagues attending to paperwork when a cry broke through the relatively peaceful morning.

A moment later, a pegasus landed directly in their path.

The rider hastily dismounted in a shower of pure white feathers. "Your Highness, the Exalt sends her greetings."

Chrom nodded, glad Robin had retreated earlier. Sumia's pegasus was a magnificent creature, but younger and smaller than the one the courier used.

"Chrom is good enough. We Shepherds don't stand upon ceremony any more than necessary."

For some reason, the courier turned as red as her hair. "As you wish, Y—er, Chrom." She ducked her head as she turned back to the pegasus and heaved the saddlebags onto the ground.

From the way the they bowed in the center and the distinctive crunching noise they made when they hit the ground, Chrom had a feeling he'd return to Ylisstol before he got through whatever it was Emm had sent him.

"Cordelia!" Sumia cried as she brought her pegasus down next to the first.

"Sumia, what a pleasant surprise!"

"And who is this most exquisite rose?" Virion murmured just loud enough to be heard.

"Make way for Teach, 'cuz school's in—"

 _Thwack_. "Manners, Vaike. Manners."

Chrom's smile deepened when he found Robin peering curiously at the courier. She had an ink smudge on one cheek and her hair tied back with a pink ribbon. Their eyes met, and for a moment he was transported back to a moonlit hill. Her lips were pressed into a pale line, but otherwise she looked all right.

"Milord." Frederick's voice startled Chrom back into the present. He gestured to the saddlebags the courier was straining to hold out.

"Ah. Thank you." The bags were every bit as heavy as they looked. Had Emm sent half the royal archives? She'd threatened long ago to make him read half of what she'd been required to read before her coronation, but he hadn't ever taken that threat seriously.

Until now.

"The pleasure is mine. Her Grace thought these reports may be of good use to you."

"I'm sure we'll make . . . good use of them." Chrom shifted slightly as Robin drew closer. Lured in by the promise of more things to read, no doubt. Whatever the case, he was glad for it.

She stopped slightly behind him, and he could tell the moment she noticed the pegasi by her swift intake of air and the way she froze up.

He passed the bags to Frederick and shifted a little more so that he stood directly between her and the pegasi. Then, because the Shepherds were all focused on someone else for a change, he reached back for her hand. It wasn't until she wove her fingers through his that either dared to breathe again.

The tips of his ears burning, Chrom glanced at her over his shoulder. Robin's cheeks were bright with color and her eyes sparkled when she caught him looking. Then she glanced at the bags Frederick had managed to drape over his arm as if they were a fine white linen cloth. She had the look in her eye of a Shepherd who had just survived Frederick's Fanatical Fitness Hour, and had been granted reprieve. Her curiosity and determination to learn everything there was to know was oddly endearing. His smile deepened, and he nodded, wondering how long it would take her to read everything.

Robin's eyes lit up, and he could almost see her mentally preparing herself to receive her sudden windfall. It was like setting Lissa loose in a candy shop with a bag full of gold.

Falchion grew warm against his hip, but otherwise remained quiet. No stray visions or sudden unilateral decisions that could have dire consequences.

All in all, a good morning.

Chrom laughed quietly and shook his head. His idea of a good morning had changed drastically. In fact—

Robin's eyes widened right before she shoved him aside—or tried to, anyway. Chrom was about to ask for an explanation when he noticed the arrow sprouting out of the saddlebags.

Frederick dropped the bags as he grabbed his spear in a single, fluid motion.

"Ready yourselves," Frederick called. "Archers to the northwest of our position!"

"Robin, wait!" Chrom reached for her as she darted forward, his fingers closing around empty air.

Despite her fear of pegasi, she latched onto the courier's arm and held a hasty one-handed conversation with Sumia.

"Fliers remain grounded," Chrom shouted as he unsheathed Falchion. "Until we've a better idea of what we're facing."

A deadly hiss was their only warning before a volley of arrows cut through the air toward them. Chrom moved to shelter Robin as best he could, but she, Miriel, and Ricken had already planted themselves in the front line, their spell books open and ready.

* * *

Lucina had promised herself that she would stick to the shadows. She had already meddled more than enough in this timeline, and she wasn't sure how much more it could bear before it fractured into pieces.

The pain of the loss of her own world was steady and sharp. A second heartbeat that pulsed on the left side of her chest. She would not willingly inflict that pain on anyone else.

But when she noticed the bandit sneaking up behind her mother, she had already covered half the distance between them before she thought to consider whether or not this was the time to break any more promises.

Falchion sang as she sliced through the air, greeting Falchion the Elder as they met in the middle of cutting down the same enemy. Her father grinned and nodded his thanks.

Her mother startled at their movements, and her eyes widened as she pieced what had happened together. Her lips went white, but nodded in turn.

 _Thank you_.

Lucina shook her head as she fell in place to guard her mother's open flank. "Just stay alive. That's all that matters."

The details had been more than a little ambiguous about who had died first, her father or her mother, but it was widely believed that the same person who had betrayed her father had betrayed her mother as well.

Lady Tiki had been exceedingly clear that Chrom was the thread upon which all else hung. Lose him, and they would lose any hope of victory over Grima. But now that she had seen them beyond a few treasured memories, one thing was certain: to lose Robin would be to lose Chrom.

Where one went, the other was sure to follow.

Lucina stole one precious moment to look at her parents and remember the promise she'd made. The promise they'd all made before they set out to do the impossible.

Then the bandits were upon them, and there was no more time for thinking. They hit in waves from three sides, a company or two strong.

Her existence became little more than a series of movements.

Step forward.

Slash.

Side step.

Swing.

Parry.

Thrust.

Twist.

Cut.

Advance.

The dance was as familiar as breathing. And for a moment, the broken shattered part of her heart where her parents' memories had rested was revived.

They would not die.

Grima would not win.

Her father would live.

Her mother would live.

Her country would live.

Morgan would—

A hot line of pain scored itself across Lucina's arm. The bandit laughed as he finished the swing, the edge of the blade coated with her blood.

Lucina narrowed her eyes and shut out the pain. His body was mortal and still held life. His eyes though . . . Was this what they meant by the shadowed ones? His eyes were open a hair too wide and they darted about in a frantic dance of their own, never resting for more than a quarter of a breath in one place.

She gritted her teeth as she parried and the velocity of the blow shuddered through her bones. There was a tortured agony in his eyes that would haunt her dreams later on, but she was certain that whatever was looking out of his eyes, it wasn't the man himself.

The bandit's laughter turned shrill as she ducked and parried another blow. Falchion glittered with sunlight as she feinted right. For a single breath, the watcher within the bandit stood mesmerized by sunlight on dragon fang, giving her enough time to spin and sweep Falchion to the left.

The crunch of bone and the smell of iron told her Falchion had found her target.

He was still laughing as he fell and the life drained out of him.

But there was no time to rest. For where one bandit fell, another sprang up in his place. Lucina frowned. Lady Miriel's notes had been thorough and methodical. They had also been about as easy to parse as her books in Rosanian and Chon'sinese. If only she'd taken the time to study them so she could more accurately gauge how far off course her presence had changed the past. Surely Plegia hadn't had time to organize and send a vanguard ahead of its army.

Lucina swiped her arm across her brow, when a bandit leaped toward her. She'd had only time enough to raise her guard before the bandit fell to the ground, more than a little singed, and very dead.

Her mother was watching her again, she could feel it. Lucina's heart clenched around the thought, hoarding it for later. For now, it was her task to keep her parents safe, not the other way around. With renewed vigor, she sprang into the battle.

A flurry of movements.

No thoughts.

No feelings.

Just a single purpose.

As the fight wore on, the fire in her arm turned into an inferno. If she had wielded any other sword than Falchion, she would have fallen from sheer exhaustion long ago.

How long had they been fighting now?

Time blurred into a surreal parody of itself. Flexing and contracting with no real pattern.

Sweat dripped down Lucina's face.

Stung her eyes.

Her gaze had long since stopped following the bandits, and instead focused on the bright edge of Falchion that gleamed through the haze of smoke and exhaustion.

It was Falchion swinging her arm.

Directing her movements.

Keeping her alive.

Just as her limbs had turned to lead, something zinged against her fingertips and the sharp scent of aether filled her nostrils.

Lucina snapped her head up, incredulous.

Her mother faced her, sheepish with an edge of wry. _I didn't fancy being run through again, and you didn't respond to any of the other conventional means_.

Lucina blinked, her thoughts still a muddle. Although she had stopped moving, she could still feel the ghost of her movements in every bone and joint.

Her lips moved.

Formed words.

But her breath had deserted her right about the same time Falchion suddenly became heavier than three houses.

Strange. That had never happened before.

She lurched forward just as her mother dove to keep her from falling into the ground face first.

Lucina grappled with her uncertain gravity as a small cacophony of voices drilled into her consciousness. Her father was there. And her mother. But no Morgan.

Never Morgan.

Never again.

It wasn't until the green warmth of her aunt's staff smoothed away her greater wounds that Lucina's head was clear enough to realize she'd been sobbing silently into her mother's shoulder.

Well, not silently. Her breath shuddered in her chest, a whirlwind in every breath.

But no tears.

She'd left all her tears in the other realm.

"Is everything all right?" Her father asked, his voice soft and low.

"Marth's wounds are healed," Aunt Lissa offered as she stood. "The ones on the outside anyway. I'm afraid that's all this is good for." She flicked the crystal at the top of her staff.

"Robin?"

Lucina wanted to close her eyes. Imagine she was six again. His voice had always carried something . . . extra when he said her mother's name.

Her mother shifted her hold. But instead of answering her father, her mother looked her in the eye.

_You haven't been sleeping, have you?_

Lucina's lips formed her reply. She cleared her throat and tried again. "When necessary."

_When is the last time you had a full meal?_

Lucina dropped her gaze. She couldn't remember.

"Robin, I think—"

Her mother's eyes flashed with a dangerous light. _Hero-King or not, you won't be in any position to save anyone else if you don't take care of yourself. I owe you my life, and I'll not stand by and watch you throw away yours._

"Precisely."

They both startled at the sound of her father's voice. He was watching them, his arms crossed, with no small amusement.

Her mother narrowed her eyes and sent him a glare that was nine-tenths bark—but it was an impressive nine-tenths.

_Meaning?_

Her father, perhaps not sensing the danger, chuckled. "Only that the physician should heed her own advice. If I didn't know any better, I'd think the two of you were related."

Lucina squeezed her eyes shut while her mother signed something else that made her father laugh again. She was slipping up. Her father had pinned a bright red bow on it, and it was only by the grace of Naga that her mother hadn't really given much attention to his words.

It was only a matter of time though. _Not considered_ was not the same thing as _not heard_. It was also something different from _not remembered for later consideration_.

She needed to leave. Keep one foot in both worlds, but two in neither. It was the only way.

"Oh, no you don't." Her father pressed a hand down on her shoulder to prevent her from standing and fleeing. "You've earned your spot among the Shepherds many times over, and it's about time we started acting in kind. My sister said you lost a lot of blood. You're going to need to rest for a little while until you've regained your strength. You too, Robin."

Her mother huffed with indignation, but her father was wearing the look he wore whenever he was about to be very firm about something. They could sooner seize the castle back in Ylisstol and drag it, stone by stone, into Plegia before he'd budge.

For some reason this reassured her.

Her father bent down on one knee and looked her mother in the eye. "As Captain of the Shepherds, it is my duty to ensure the safety and well-being of my people—especially my tactician."

_You dare pull rank again—_

He smiled then, a smile at once familiar and foreign. This smile had not yet been worn down by years of war and injury and loss. He leaned closer and rested his forehead against her mother's. Lucina froze, not wanting to intrude, but completely unable to look away.

"I'm hoping that won't be necessary."

A blush stained her mother's cheeks, but she met her father's gaze head on. _That depends on what you propose._

For some reason this made both her parents blush. It was strange seeing them like this, because the only people doing the blushing in the future were Lucina and her brother. Mostly just her, though.

"Milord." Sir Frederick's voice was low, but something in it put all of them on edge.

Her father stood. "What is it?"

Sir Frederick's face was impassive as always, but there were small lines of tension around his mouth and eyes that gave him away. He handed her father a small leather pouch. "Something we found on their captain, Milord."

Now was the perfect time to slip away—

 _Stay_. Her mother didn't sign the word. She didn't have to. The word was in her eyes, in her hand pressing against Lucina's arm.

"How long ago was this found?" her father asked, the color gone from his face.

"Only just now, Milord."

Her mother gave her one last warning look before she straightened. _What went wrong?_

Wordless, her father handed her mother the papers he'd taken out of the pouch. Her eyes scanned the missive, and she pressed a hand to her mouth.

"We need to leave now." Her father stopped, remembering her. He looked down at Lucina, apologetic. "You'll travel with us, Marth, but we must head back to Ylisstol immediately."

 _I'll get everyone organized_. Her mother hurried off.

"Please," Lucina said, her voice a little stronger than it had been. "What happened?"

Her father set his jaw. "Plegia is planning to strike the Exalt directly. This group was to spearhead the attack."

Lucina's insides went cold. She'd been so busy flitting back and forth between worlds, heading off all the bandits and Risen that she could, that she'd forgotten to pay attention to the date. Plegia _had_ attacked the castle in Ylisstol. A surprise maneuver that had cost Exalt Emmeryn her life. Just as the consequences of that attack would eventually doom her father.

The first of many battles that would come to doom them all.

She caught his sleeve as he turned. "Please. Be careful."

Her father's smile smoothed away some of the fury burning in his eyes. "I could say the same to you. While we could use your help when we arrive, we will not press you."

Lucina shook her head, her left hand resting on Falchion. "My sword is yours in defense of Ylisse."

Her father's eyes widened as she recited the oath given to the first Exalt. He rested a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you. My life shall serve as your shield."

Some of the weight on her shoulders fell away at his words. Her parents would never know, not until far into the future, but Lucina would treasure every moment she spent with her parents and their family of Shepherds.

Despite her earlier resolution to remain in the shadows, she could feel it in her bones that this moment was one of the few that would either lead to victory or total defeat. If they could prevent her aunt's death, prevent her father's injury, then the way to saving the world might very well be within reach.

Falchion grew warm beneath her palm, reminding Lucina that despite all appearances to the contrary, she had never truly been alone.

Reinforcements were coming. Fate's wheel would turn. And the destiny of the world would change.

She would not allow it to be otherwise.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing this, I had often wondered what would make Chrom pull rank-or even if he ever would. It turns out that napping in a strawberry patch will do it. ;p
> 
> The Mirror Realm is finally going to get involved in the battle for Robin. I'm personally Team Ylisse (and thus Team Chrom) all the way, but Team Mirror Realm and Team Grima will be fighting just as hard. Should be fun. I'm really excited for this though, and can't wait until the next chapter! (I'm fairly certain that Lissa and Miriel are going to make a fearsome team. Lissa comes up with the crazy schemes, and Miriel rises to the challenge of figuring out how to implement them. :D)
> 
> Lucina was the character that surprised me the most in this chapter. She's always so stoic in the game, so I figured she'd mostly be the same in this chapter (and most of the story). But it isn't in her nature to sit back and do nothing-she got a double shot of that from both her parents-and she hasn't met up with any of the kids yet, so she's been keeping very busy. Too busy. And finally her own cracks started to show in both this chapter and the last. It's been very interesting comparing her memories of her parents (and world) from her perspective when she was a child and now when she's on the cusp of adulthood.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading/commenting/sharing/etc. Fractured would be nowhere what it is without you. Thank you!


	33. Chapter Thirty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

_Chrom._

_She had to protect Chrom._

_Robin fumbled with her tome, heart thudding erratically against her rib cage._

_A man of shadows cloaked in malice sneered at them, the fanatical gleam in his eyes visible even from where she stood. He was tall and gaunt as though he'd been stretched between the realms, neither side wishing to lay claim upon him._

_He hissed something just as Chrom raised Falchion toward the ceiling._

_"_ _There!"_

_An answering crackle of Thunder appeared in her palm. It had only time enough to sting a few fingers before she lobbed it at the man who, impossibly, had teleported to the ceiling._

_He managed to dodge, and threw a spell of his own. It was the same bright violet as the brand on the back of her hand, and it bit into her with teeth like thorns._

_Her heart nearly stopped when the man hurled a twisted version of Thunder at Chrom. The spell hit him with such force that it left a hole in the wall._

_Hot fury coursed through her entire being, nearly melting the spell trembling between her fingers. With a silent cry, she threw the spell at the man, only to have it recoil against herself._

_The force of her spell sent Robin flying backward where she smashed into the ground. She lay there, helpless. A broken doll cast aside._

_But she had caught his attention, and as the man peered down at her, his lips curled into a smile._

_"_ _Found you."_

Robin startled awake, a strangled cry caught in the back of her throat. Her breaths came in ragged gasps edged with fire. Her heartbeat pounded at her temples as she looked about wildly, unable to find anything familiar.

In her panic, she lurched forward, stumbled, and nearly fell out of the wagon.

The wagon.

Small details began to bleed into her conscious mind.

She had been resting in a wagon. Chrom had told her—

Chrom!

Her heart hammered against her bones as the dread of her dream spiked her fears. Something terrible had nearly happened. What, exactly, she hadn't the first clue, only that it had.

And Chrom—

She needed to make sure he was all right. The dream clung to her like many fine layers of cobwebs, obscuring the _now_ until all she could see, all she could feel, was the _then_.

Swallowing hard, Robin managed to jump down from the wagon without killing herself. She was wobbled a little, disoriented as all the feelings the dream had conjured up fought for supremacy in her sleep-addled mind.

"Hey, now," Lissa brandished her staff, "you're supposed to be resting."

Robin blinked at her.

Then staggered past.

"Hey!" Lissa caught her by the arm just as her left knee decided to buckle. "Oof! See? This is why you don't ignore the healer!"

Robin shook her head. She had been resting. Some part of her knew that. And yet it felt as though she had been there in her dream, battered by magic, exhaustion seeping into her limbs, while ice cold desperation made it hard to breathe.

Hard to think.

_Need. Chrom_.

Lissa narrowed her eyes. "What you need to do is rest. Especially now."

Robin shook her head again. She'd rest once she was certain of Chrom's safety. Beneath the anxious desperation was a clear certainty that she was somehow responsible for the terrible thing that was coming.

But she would never hurt Chrom, would she?

She put a hand to her head as she fought to remember every detail of the dream. But the harder she tried, the faster the details slipped through her fingers like finely ground sand.

"What on earth are you _doing_?"

Robin yelped silently and jumped away from Maribelle. Or, more accurately, Maribelle and her horse. Their time in the village had done little to raise their regard for each other. Instead, it had cemented the roles they'd had from the beginning. Maribelle mended whatever Robin broke.

"Lissa, darling, did you not make it clear that rest is of the utmost importance? With all the uncertainty surrounding us, who knows when another opportunity will be afforded us?"

"Of course I did! Hey! Robin, come back here," Lissa growled.

While the healers were distracted, Robin seized the opportunity to—

"Evening, miss. Er, Your Lady . . . shipness."

Robin turned to find Donnel politely tipping the pot he wore on his head. She made a mental note to secure a proper helm for him once they got back to Ylisstol.

"I don't rightly know if you noticed, but the princess has been hollerin' for you." He gestured to the creampuff storm cloud who was approaching with steely determination in her stride.

Robin locked elbows with Donnel and quickened her step. Clobbering your patient had to be against the healers' code, but on the off chance it wasn't, she figured there was safety in numbers.

Donnel cast a worried look over his shoulder. It was amazing, really, how terrifying Lissa could be when she put her mind to it.

"If there's something that needs doing, I'd be happy to help, Your Ladyness." He hesitated, gauging her reaction from the corner of his eyes. "If you're looking for the captain, he went on ahead to secure fresh mounts."

Her stomach clenched at the thought of more horses. They had to hurry, of course they did. If only that didn't mean—

Robin froze with one foot in the air. They'd nearly reached the front of the column. It wasn't the demon spawn with wings or Quicksilver that made her pause, but something else she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Frederick and Sumia walked side by side, their heads bent toward each other as they conversed in low tones. There was something about their stance that made Robin feel as though she had been about to trespass on something private.

What to do?

A quick glance over her shoulder promised a pigtailed reckoning to come. Chrom was nowhere to be found. She couldn't go forward. She couldn't retreat. And Donnel seemed not to have noticed their predicament as he tried to be helpful.

Robin's luck had been far too good to hold out long, and indeed, Sumia glanced back at them. Her eyes widened and her cheeks colored as she stumbled. She murmured something to Frederick before hastily mounting the demon spawn and preparing to take flight.

Robin could feel her blood turning to ice as she made a quick decision. Lissa was closing in, and Robin had had enough of being fussed over. And while she really didn't want to die at the moment, she needed to talk to Sumia. Bonus: they wouldn't be overheard.

Before her common sense or survival instinct could kick in, Robin darted forward and managed to clamp her arms around Sumia's waist. A sudden jerk that left her stomach and a few other essential organs on the ground told her the demon spawn had taken to the skies.

"R-Robin?"

Robin shook her head and tried to steady her breathing. She didn't remember jumping, yet here she was. Safe and sound on her . . . suicide mission. She squeezed her eyes closed so she couldn't see how far she had to fall.

"Are you okay? Here, let me take you back."

Sumia's tone was filled with her usual gentle kindness, but Robin shook her head emphatically while tightening her grip. There were things she needed to say, and she hadn't braved certain death only to turn back now.

"A-all right."

A heavy silence fell upon them just as Robin discovered a fatal flaw in her plan. She'd wanted to make sure things were all right between them. To, not apologize exactly, but to let her friend know that she hadn't intended to develop feelings for Chrom. That she hadn't tried to steal him away. To say she was sorry that she hadn't made time for this particular conversation sooner. To apologize for being such a terrible friend.

All of this, and more, burbled unpleasantly in the back of Robin's throat. But if she wanted to say any of it, she'd have to let go of Sumia with at least one hand.

Which she would do. At some point. When they were no longer in danger of a nasty fall _and_ being eaten by that infernal pegasus.

Why, oh why, did her voice have to be bound in this realm? More importantly, why had she allowed herself to forget that tiny, yet all important detail?

Sumia shifted a little in an effort to loosen Robin's hold, but stopped once she realized that only made Robin squeeze even tighter.

"I-is there a reason in particular you joined me up here?"

Clenching her jaw, Robin nodded.

Sumia hummed something to herself. "It must have been awfully important for you to venture near Snowdrop."

Robin nodded again, hoping against hope that her stomach wasn't going to rebel on her. Taking stock, she really didn't like her odds.

Really, really didn't like them at all.

"I'm sorry we haven't had much time to talk lately." Sumia took as deep a breath as Robin's hold would allow. "There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while now."

Robin braced herself. Undoubtedly, Sumia must be upset over her betrayal. She was still trying to get the hang of friendship, but Robin was fairly certain that it wasn't a good idea to hallucinate about the one person your best friend had locked in her heart.

"I've always been the clumsy one. The one most likely to make a mess of things no matter how hard I try." Sumia laughed softly. "In fact, the harder I try, the worse a mess I make."

Robin wanted to console her friend. Rub the sadness out of her voice. But in the interest of keeping them both from pitching over the side of the demon spawn, she held completely still—save for the breaths that shuddered through her every moment they were away from the safe, dependable ground.

"I never thought I would find someone who could see past my defects. To find someone who could see a part of me I didn't even know existed."

Robin's stomach twisted with every word that stood uncomfortably close to one of the roles Chrom played in her own life.

Sumia sighed. "It hurt a little at first, to have my love returned as friendship. To watch the one I thought I'd given my heart to entrust his heart another." Her tone softened, and Robin could almost imagine her smile. "I don't blame you, Robin. I never have."

Fire burned in Robin's throat, thundered in her temples, broiled in her gut. If her body hadn't frozen into stone, she might have even been foolish enough to attempt speech.

"In fact, I have you to thank. If I hadn't seen Chr—him and what love looked like by watching the two of you, I might have overlooked the flowers blooming right next to me. Watching you made me want to—to have that too. And I found I didn't just want someone I could love, but someone who could love _me_ too. Someone who could look at me and see all of his everything."

Robin desperately wanted to say something—anything—and all the words piled up on the tips of her fingers. As if sensing her vulnerability, the demon spawn's movements went from rhythmic to jerky with a few jolts thrown in for good measure.

"I'm happy now, Robin. I want you to be too, so no more fretting over this. It means a lot to me that you braved Snowdrop and everything, so thank you."

Robin's stomach twisted sharply, and she pressed her lips into a firm line. Her stomach could be as upset as it wanted, but not until they were on the firm, stable, wonderful ground again. Yet despite her intentions, she knew she was running out of time.

But how to convey that to Sumia without—

"You have to come down at some point, Robin."

Robin froze mid-groan. That was Lissa's voice. But what was—

"Seriously. Come down."

Heart fluttering at the back of her throat, Robin forced one of her eyes open. Lissa was glowering up at her, arms crossed, and holding her healing staff the way some of the bandits held their cudgels.

Her heart beat in happy anticipation as she realized they'd landed. They were on the ground again!

"Robin," Sumia gasped. "If you don't mind, could you loosen your hold a little? It's getting a little hard to breathe."

Robin had meant to loosen her grasp, she really had, but the demon spawn chose that exact moment to shift its position, reminding her forcefully of where she was. Her mind went blank with terror, and she couldn't have moved even if she'd wanted to.

In the end, Frederick pried Sumia loose while Stahl got her down.

"Aww, you steal all my fun," Lissa complained as she looked Robin over while Maribelle saw to Sumia. "I can't even yell at you for running away from your healer, not when you're wearing that petrified little bunny look."

Robin glowered at her and shivered. Her body and mind were still catching up with each other, and they hadn't quite decided if they were going to go into shock or were too relieved to be safe on the ground to do anything more than wring her stomach free of its contents.

_I'm not a rabbit. I'm a tactician_.

Lissa nodded agreeably. "You're also in hot water for ignoring the advice of your healer. On the bright side, that's not going to be anything compared to how much trouble you're going to be in with my brother when he finds out."

The bit of color that had crept back into Robin's face drained away. She hadn't done anything wrong, technically, but she had a good idea of how Chrom would see things.

"Then it is fortuitous that I have finished with the preliminary testing." Miriel adjusted her spectacles as she walked over to them. She reached into her sleeve and pulled out a small blue vial.

Lissa cocked her head to the side. "What is that? A new kind of elixir?"

Miriel allowed herself a tiny smile. "In a matter of speaking, yes. And much to the point."

Robin gaped at her. Had Miriel actually just made a jape? Was the world ending? It had to be ending.

"So what does it do?"

"In practical terms, we have yet to find out. However, theoretically, it should help us narrow down the variables concerning Robin's inability to vocalize. I have ensured that the elixir has all the necessary components to address the twenty most common variables likely to render one unable to speak. It is unlikely that we will discover the cause on the first try, but I remain optimistic. Beyond this twenty, I have isolated an additional one hundred and fifty-three variables we may test should our first efforts fail us."

Lissa's face scrunched up as she tried to digest Miriel's explanation. And while Robin would have been hard pressed to pin every particular down, she understood enough to be wary.

Miriel, like the scientist she was, had simply come to see failure as a steppingstone that led a person one step closer to the truth they were trying to uncover. In short, she wouldn't be surprised if their first try failed, was prepared for the failure, and—most importantly—wasn't the one who had to drink the elixir.

Hadn't Robin promised herself early on that she was going to ensure she never ended up in Miriel's crosshairs?

_Thank you_. Robin was casting about for something else to say, when Miriel pushed her spectacles up on the bridge of her nose.

"You are very welcome. I must speak frankly, however. Though I am anxious to observe the elixir's effects, I would be remiss if I did not urge you to use it with care. It is still very much in the experimental phase and, as such, it will most likely have its attendant side effects that cannot not be postulated prior to your exhibiting the symptoms."

"Side effects?" Lissa laughed. "Like what? Robin's not going to grow bunny ears or a tail is she?"

"I have learned it is best not to rule anything out," Miriel said simply. "But I would be most appreciative if you would keep detailed notes on any . . . abnormalities that might arise."

A cold weight dropped in Robin's gut as she forced herself to smile and nod. _Of course_.

She tucked the elixir away in her pocket. Now was _not_ the time to sprout bunny ears or a tail. This would have to wait until they'd dealt with Plegia and secured the Exalt's future. Nothing was more important than that.

Now, to prepare her counter arguments for Chrom's arrival . . .

* * *

They reached Ylisstol just as the sun had begun to set.

Chrom wasn't one for poetry or flourishes, but there was something so beautiful about the white spires of home reaching into the heavens that it nearly stole his breath away.

Or would have had he any to spare.

Robin had insisted on remaining awake on the ride home, and despite her dainty stature, she'd been holding onto him like a vise for at least a day's worth of hard riding.

Not that he would have had it any other way, especially after he'd found out she'd gone flying with Sumia. On purpose. On a pegasus. Combining two of the things Robin hated more than anything else: heights and Snowdrop.

"We're nearly home," he murmured.

Robin nodded, but didn't open her eyes. Chrom shook his head. The shadows under her eyes seemed darker than usual, but she seemed fine otherwise. He was about to tease her about it when a flash of color caught his attention.

The Exalt's Guard fluttered down from the sky, landing in two perfect lines on either side of the walkway that led to the front gates of the castle where Emm stood waiting for them.

His lips twitched as he considered dismounting, but figured Robin would hardly appreciate being carried like a sack of potatoes. He reined the horse in at the appropriate distance. Emm was putting on a show of strength and solidarity for her people, which made his duty clear.

"Good news. We need to walk from here on out."

After taking a moment to steel herself, Robin uncurled just enough to look up at him. He would have to ask her, one day, how she had captured the entire night sky in her eyes.

"I'll dismount first, and then help you down." Chrom was careful to keep his voice low. Robin had that wild look in her eye that she only ever got when she was on the verge of bolting. Coupled with her Vanishing ability, who knew where she'd end up if she got spooked?

With their luck, she'd probably land in any of the several attics the castle possessed.

Her eyes went impossibly wide as he dismounted and then swung her down to his side in a single fluid movement. Ha! All those hero games he, Sully, and Vaike had played as children had finally paid off.

"We'll have to report before we do anything else," he said as the other Shepherds fell into place behind them. They walked as one up to where his sister waited. "And we'll need to put measures into place to protect Emm."

Robin's hood fell back as she tipped her head back to look up at him. She gave him a wan smile before tapping the side of her head with her finger.

Despite the severity of the situation, Chrom chuckled. If he wasn't off his mark, Robin had probably come up with a few dozen scenarios already, each with any number of back up plans.

"Welcome home," Emm said, her smile warm and bright as ever. She looked like she was about to say something else, but she simply nodded, her smile widening.

"Did you receive our message?" he asked, reassessing the situation. Perhaps the honor guard was for more than just show.

"Yes. Cordelia reached us late last night."

Chrom frowned. Why did he have the feeling that Emm was holding her peace? And why did she keep looking at him the way Lissa eyed the display windows of the bakery in the town square?

"You have our gratitude."

"We just need a few minutes to have everything sorted out and then we can give you our reports—"

Emm shook her head. "Anything you've written down, you may place in the care of Phila. Otherwise, your quarters have all been refreshed and the kitchens have prepared a feast that should sate even the hungriest of Shepherds."

"Emm?"

She leaned a little closer, laughter in her eyes. "Consider it both my gift and my consolation."

What on earth—oh! Chrom had followed his sister's line of sight to where it rested on his and Robin's clasped hands. Heat flared in his face and the back of his neck, but not enough for him to let go.

"The court will need to be notified and the proper protocols followed." She turned her smile toward Robin who was looking more than a little perplexed. "The rules governing courtship among the royal nobility can be complex, but we shall take care so that you will have everything that you need."

Chrom choked on a laugh he hastily smothered as color flooded Robin's face and her jaw dropped. Her fingers plucked random letters out of the air, but his sister's words had left her speechless.

His expression softened as he sought to commit every line and shade of her to memory. In many ways, it still seemed as though he was dreaming. That at any moment he could open his eyes and she would vanish, taking everything that was good and beautiful in his world with her.

"Are you sure this is the time to be worrying about this?" he asked, holding Robin's hand a little tighter. "We've need to ensure your safety before anything else."

"Peace, Chrom." Emm rested her hand lightly on his arm. For a moment, a storm seemed to pass behind her eyes. "Soon enough Ylisse will have to put on her courage, and there will be many who have cause to mourn afterward. It is because of this that holding to tradition, giving the people a reason to hope, is vital.

"They will look at you and see the man who has worked so tirelessly to protect them. And in Robin, you will secure the exalted line. The future of Ylisse lies within the two of you. It would be foolish to forego any weapon we have in our arsenal, would it not?"

"Emm." Chrom didn't know what to say. Her reasoning was sound, he had just never expected her to see what must be done quite as clearly as she obviously had. Then he blinked as the implications of the rest of what she'd said filtered through his to consciousness.

"Secure the line?" He shook his head. "It is no secret that I've never wished to be Exalt. Besides, Ylisse already has the Exalt she needs. We will settle things with Plegia quickly, and in the peace that is to come, you will have time to secure the line yourself."

Emm's eyes brightened, and she gently ruffled his hair as though he were ten years old again. "The court will be happy to hear it. But it is my duty to consider the situation from every angle."

Before Chrom could even begin to think of a reply to that, Robin dipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out one of the birds she had whittled. She let go of his hand so she could cup the bird in her palms as she held it out to his sister.

Something flashed in Emm's eyes as she accepted the bird. "A kestrel."

Robin nodded. _I hope you like it. It took a while for the wood to figure out what shape it wanted to be._

"It's beautiful." The silvery sheen in Emm's eyes spilled over her cheek as she clasped the bird to her heart. "I shall treasure it always. Thank you."

Chrom shifted his weight uncertainly. Emm was an oasis of peace as ever, yet there was something more to her, a sort of gravitas pressing down on her that even he could feel from where he stood. Had something else happened while they were away? If so, why wouldn't Emm confide in him?

"Ah," Emm smiled as she stepped back. "I fear I have been a poor hostess, making you all wait out here. Please, come in. Rest from your journey and break bread in peace."

"Finally!" Vaike muttered just loud enough to be heard over the sound of Stahl's stomach growling.

Chrom guided Robin to the side as the other Shepherds streamed past them. Lissa was hugging Emm and likely telling her about everything that had transpired since Emm had returned to Ylisstol.

Robin plucked at his sleeve, a smile dancing in her eyes. _I would have thought you'd be first in line for the feast_.

Regret darkened his eyes. A fine prince he was! He'd been thinking only of his wishes. "I'm sorry. We can join the others if you'd like."

Robin grinned and shook her head. _No, I'm fine. I'm just surprised is all_.

"I think you've confused me with Stahl. I'd like to think I do more than eat."

_True. You nap too_.

She laughed silently as she danced just out of reach. Chrom feigned a swipe at her and then when she dodged, he darted forward and caught her from behind. She froze for a moment as his arms closed around her before sighing and leaning into him a little.

"Got you." Her hair smelled of rain and something else he couldn't identify. Whatever it was, he approved.

He had only a moment to enjoy the scent before she twisted around and ducked out of his hold.

_Tactical error_. She was still smiling, but some of the laughter had gone out of her eyes.

"Robin?"

She shook her head. _I just remembered a little of a dream I had_.

"Oh? It doesn't look like it was a pleasant dream."

Her gaze fell. _It wasn't_.

She dipped her hands into her pockets and pulled out a small blue vial that she passed from hand to hand as she frowned at her toes.

Chrom only panicked slightly as he wracked his brain for something, anything at all, that he could say that would bring back her former levity.

"What have you got there?"

Her gaze refocused and some of her smile reached her eyes. She held up the bottle to the dying light. _An experiment that might possibly give me bunny ears_.

"Pardon?" Chrom coughed, sure he had misheard.

_Or a rabbit tail. Miriel didn't want to rule anything out_.

He blinked, feeling sure there had to be a jape in there somewhere, but he wasn't sure where. "Is there a reason you want to become a rabbit person?"

_The term you're looking for is_ Taguel. _And no, not particularly_. He must have looked completely lost, because Robin grinned as she took pity on him. _It's a tonic Miriel came up with. I asked her if she could help me find a way to . . . unbind my voice_.

"You mean you might be able to talk?" Suddenly the whole world seemed to open itself to him. He didn't mind that Robin couldn't speak, but he sometimes wondered what it would be like to hear her say his name.

She nodded.

Chrom furrowed his brow. "If that's the case, why haven't you taken it yet?"

_Besides possibly altering my species?_ Robin stared into the bottle as though it held the answer to a riddle she hadn't been able to puzzle out. _The side effects could literally be anything, so I can't risk taking it yet. Not right now. Maybe later when things have settled_.

"But you want to be able to speak?"

She shrugged and gave the bottle a wistful look as she went back to passing it from hand to hand.

Chrom reached out, caught her hands in his. "Robin, no one would fault you if you took it now. And it might be good to take it now while everything is relatively calm. It would make communicating on the battlefield a lot easier." He shook away the thought of all the battles that would shortly be waged.

_Would you still love me if I turned into a Taguel?_

He laughed and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "I'll love you no matter the species. And if you become a rabbit, I promise to bring you only the freshest carrots and heads of lettuce."

Robin stuck her tongue out at him. _You're sure? Once I drink it, that's it. No way to undrink it at that point_.

"I will love you no matter what form you take, Robin, now and forever."

Steeling herself, she removed the cork and drank the elixir.

A long moment passed before they collectively let out a breath of relief.

_No tail?_ Robin asked as she patted the top of her head.

"No tail," he confirmed just as Marth stepped out of the shadows. Chrom did a double take when he realized Marth had drawn his sword. "Marth? How did you get in here?"

Marth approached them, the edge of his sword glimmering in the twilight. "I got in through the cleft in the castle wall behind the maple grove."

Something cold coiled in Chrom's gut. "There? But how could you—?" He groaned. He'd meant to have the wall repaired, but thing after thing seemed to come up until he'd forgotten about the hole he'd made. Did Phila and the rest know about this vulnerability?

Robin touched his arm. _You know this place?_

"Yes." The tips of his ears burned. "There was a . . . a training . . . mishap."

She arched a brow at him, but held her peace.

"It was only a small hole," he said. "I'd thought it well concealed, but . . ."

"Your secret is safe with me." Marth shifted his stance so he was angled away from them. "I have come only to warn you."

"Warn me?" Chrom nodded at the naked blade that gleamed like silver despite the moon only just starting to rise on the horizon. "Is that why you've drawn your sword?"

Marth regarded him silently for a long moment. "The Exalt's life is in danger."

"What? That's absurd. Emmeryn has a bevy of guards surrounding her, and Robin—"

"What if . . ." Marth bit his bottom lip before he seemed to make up his mind. "What if I told you I come from the future? Would you believe me? A future where the Exalt Emmeryn is slain. Here. Tonight."

"Come the future?" Chrom scoffed. "Perhaps you've lost your wits."

To his surprise, Robin was staring intently at Marth who seemed to be doing his best not to shrink beneath her gaze.

"Yes." The word was short and slightly bitter. "I would not expect you to believe me. Instead, allow me to prove it."

"Marth—"

Robin caught his arm, her gaze never leaving Marth's.

To his surprise, Marth turned as though he meant to walk away from them. "I'm going to save your life."

"Save my life? From who?"

"From him."

Right as Marth spoke, a dark shape darted out from behind a bush, the blade in his hand catching the moonlight. Marth tossed his sword into the air as he launched himself after it. His fingers closed around the hilt, and he brought it down on the assassin, felling the knave where he'd stood.

"Marth, I—"

"I trust this proof is sufficient?"

Robin narrowed her eyes. _Show off_.

Marth turned to reply when a second figure darted toward them. He had no time to bring his sword about, and his foot caught on the assassin he'd already felled, causing him to fall backward.

The assassin's blade arched toward Marth, but it was his fall that saved him. The only thing the blade cut through was the mask.

Chrom was already in motion, and had dispatched the second assassin before a few details caught up with him.

"Wait. You're a—a woman?"

Off to the side of him, he could almost see Robin burying her face in her hand.

Marth nodded as she squared her shoulders. "And a fine actress as well. Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't figure it out before now."

Robin stalked past him. Her face was mostly in shadow, but from what he could make out of her expression, he was grateful he wasn't Marth. She lifted her hands to speak, when an explosion rocked the ground and a plume of dark smoke appeared in a slender column on the other side of the castle grounds.

They glanced at each other for a fraction of a moment before they all took off running in the direction of the explosion. As Chrom pushed himself to move faster, he could only pray to Naga that Marth's warning had come in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha! So apparently this Robin is playing on lunatic mode. :p
> 
> A few chapters back, I let my brain wander over as many possible scenarios in which Robin would finally talk to Sumia about the giant blue elephant in the room. For some reason, the one with her clutching Sumia like her life depended on it while flying on Snowdrop seemed to be the one most likely to happen. Especially since Robin needs her hands to talk. :)
> 
> I got stuck near the end of Robin's section until I realized Miriel had been standing there patiently waiting for me to notice her. I've been looking forward to this part, and can't wait to get started on the next chapter. Bubbles, indeed. 0:)
> 
> Emm and Lissa are happily anticipating joining forces to tease Chrom unmercifully, and they've been waiting forever for this moment. Hopefully Chrom will not disappoint. :p
> 
> I have a hunch that Lucina's secret is going to come out sooner than she'd anticipated. If she'd only had to deal with Chrom, she likely would have been safe. He's still coming to terms with the fact that she's a girl. Robin, on the other hand . . .
> 
> A special thanks to all you lovely readers! You guys are quite literally the reason why this chapter is finished and posted. I hope you enjoy, and have a great week!
> 
> *Apologies. Haven't had time to change the scene transition thingamabob yet, but it is on my list of things to do. Will hopefully get to it soon. :)


	34. Chapter Thirty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

The shadows were darker than usual and clung thickly to the corners like cobwebs.

Lissa fidgeted in place, smoothing her skirts and doing her best to appear royal. It hadn't been difficult convincing the rest of the Shepherds to gather here to help, per se, but it hadn't been easy either. She had so many favors to repay that she'd probably fade before she finished half of them.

"Worried about something?" Her brother grinned at her.

"Worried? Me? Ha ha! What would I have to be worried about?" She cringed a little, hoping Chrom wouldn't start asking questions. They were all standing in the circle Miriel had built out of something that had a complicated-sounding name that was at least five syllables too many for her to keep track of. Naturally, when Lissa had enlisted their help, she'd left out some of the smaller details.

Like, for instance, the spell Miriel had come up with would technically be classified as experimental. The safety parameters were iffy, but only a little! And not by much!

Or that they'd each need to donate a shard of themselves for it to have any hope of working. The good news was that Miriel didn't think it was likely that anyone would shatter during the shard extraction.

Probably.

In truth, Lissa hadn't paid proper attention to most of the technical jargon Miriel had thrown at her. Ricken was the only one who could reliably translate what Miriel was saying for the rest of them, but even he had had a hard time parsing out his mentor's explanation during their brief consultation.

"I think," Chrom gave her a long look, "I should probably be the one worrying at this point. Care to tell me exactly what I should be concerned about?"

Lissa waved a dismissive hand. "You worry too much, Chrom."

He blinked at her in surprise, and she quickly turned away from him. Chrom worry? Ha! By the time Chrom usually started to worry, things had turned dire long before.

And they both knew it.

"So what's this all about anyway? The Vaike would like some answers."

"Really? _The Vaike?_ Could you possibly be any more conceited?" Maribelle scoffed as she dabbed at her face with a handkerchief that was nine parts frills and one part useable.

"Ha! You're just jealous that you don't—"

"Lissa, darling." Maribelle turned toward her, completely ignoring everyone else. "What exactly are we all supposed to be doing?"

Lissa giggled nervously as she felt the Shepherds' collective attention focus completely on her. "Well, see, here's the thing—"

"I would like to express my gratitude for your willing cooperation," Miriel said as she made a final adjustment to the outer rim of the circle where she'd been scribbling indecipherable marks. "While possessing a plethora of virtues, I had not thought the quest for scientific inquiry rated highly among our ranks. I am pleased to see that all of you are standing in solidarity despite the experimental nature of applied theoretics."

The mage paused to adjust her spectacles while Lissa wilted under the combined stare of everyone the second Miriel used the word _experimental_.

Sully cursed under her breath. "Hold on. Experimental? Nobody said anything about this being experimental. Do you know how long it took to get Brazen Thunder's coat back to normal the last time you did an experiment?"

Sully had addressed Miriel, but saved her impressive glower for Lissa.

"Ah. A brief oversight on my part." Miriel's cheeks went pink. "To my regret, I had not then taken into account—"

"We're here for Robin," Lissa blurted as more and more Shepherds shifted their attention from Miriel's explanation in favor of glaring at her. They'd all learned well enough to avoid Miriel whenever she started even mentioning the word 'experiment.' It didn't take spending a week bright green or growing cat ears to know that disappearing was the best strategy.

A strategy they'd all mastered until now.

"What about Robin?" her brother asked, his eyes narrowed. "Is she all right?"

Lissa nodded. "Sure."

"Sure?"

The look Chrom gave her promised she wasn't going to be able to wriggle her way out of this one. Which complicated things, especially since Robin had only ever appeared for her and Chrom in this world.

Chrom crossed his arms. "I'm listening."

Lissa tightened her grip on her staff as she worked out exactly how much she ought to tell them. Caution and her brother weren't really ever in the same room, and that went double whenever Robin was involved.

Which meant he was going to get the highly abridged version.

"Chrom . . ." She made the mistake of looking at him then. The bond they all shared with Robin never shined brighter than when her brother was thinking of her. Shoulders hunched in defeat, Lissa sighed. "She's _our_ Robin."

"Our Robin?" he whispered, the color going out of his face.

Lissa nodded unhappily.

"What do you mean _our_ Robin?" Stahl finished the pie he'd been nibbling on while they'd waited for Miriel to get everything ready. "She's usually just out _there_ , isn't she? Is it even possible for her to be one of ours?"

"From all that I have been able to deduce," Miriel tugged on the brim of her hat, "I would say that it is highly likely that the Robin of which we speak has some kind of affinity that enables her to enter this realm which, of course, speaks to her origins."

"But if she's ours, then how come she's out _there_?" Sumia asked, twisting a flower anxiously between her fingers.

Lissa waited for someone—anyone—else to speak up, but finally conceded that if anyone was going to talk, it was going to be her. If only Emm had been able to join them! She'd know what to do.

"I don't know. All I know is that she's ours and the thing we're going to do today will help her remember that." She took a deep breath against a traitorous corner of her heart that was already hurting for her brother's counterpart. "And if we can do that, maybe it will help us find the Robin that properly belongs in the outside realm."

Frederick raised a brow. "How do you mean? You can't very well have one without the other, can you?"

Lissa shrugged helplessly.

"Well, this is _Robin_ we're talking about, isn't it?" Sully leaned against Brazen Thunder thoughtfully. "I mean, it's not like she ever does anything the way you'd expect."

"The exception that proves the rule," Miriel murmured as she scrawled something down in the corner of her tome.

"She is indeed a unique treasure among women," Virion said with a sideways grin at Chrom.

Chrom didn't exactly draw Falchion, but it was obvious he was thinking about it. With effort, he ignored taking the bait in favor of action. "What do you need us to do?"

To Lissa's surprise, Miriel didn't immediately launch into an overblown explanation that no one but Ricken would really get the first time around. Instead, she, like everyone else, waited for Lissa to keep talking.

"Well, uh . . ." Nervous butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She hadn't really thought about what would happen during the experiment, because she'd been more focused on what should hopefully happen after. Trying not to think about how much better Emm would do in her position, Lissa forced herself to stand as tall as the princess she was.

"Mostly I think we just need to stand here while Miriel does her . . . whatever it is she's going to do. It might, um, hurt for a second while the spell extracts a shard from each of us, but after that, it should be all good. Probably."

At the mention of extracting a shard, everyone's glowers deepened. At this point, Sumia and Chrom were the only two who wasn't giving her a dark look. But not a single Shepherd moved from their place, which was something.

She hoped.

"Your explanation is . . . adequate." Miriel's lips twisted over the word like she'd tasted something sour, but she opened her tome and raised her hand.

Drawing in a deep breath, Lissa squeezed her eyes shut. This was going to work. It had to work. Anything else was unthinkable.

 _Don't worry_ , she thought of the Chrom in the outside realm, _once we get Robin sorted out in here, we won't stop looking until we find your Robin out there_.

The magic Miriel had worked washed over them in a golden wave, glowing brighter and brighter until it had turned from gold to white. Just as Lissa was certain they were all going to be obliterated, something hard punched through her chest, taking a little piece of her with it.

Her last thought as darkness closed over her was that if everything went well, hopefully her brother wouldn't mind the frogs she'd tucked away in his room for safe keeping.

* * *

The calm of the evening had shattered into chaos. The Shepherds weren't the only ones prepared to defend both the castle and the Exalt. It came as no small relief when Robin realized that the royal guards—ubiquitous as all the potted plants lining the halls and corridors—were not standing around for decorative purposes.

Robin's heart fluttered at the back of her throat as she doggedly followed Chrom and "Marth." They wove through the corridors, aiding the guards whenever they could. Their true aim, however, were Emmeryn's chambers.

"The Exalt is our top priority," Marth said as they pounded up a flight of stairs and dashed down the longest corridor Robin had ever seen. "We must keep her safe."

Chrom grunted his agreement and sped up. Robin gritted her teeth and pushed herself harder. As they skidded around a corner, they nearly collided with a small group of assassins that all wore those stupid wyvern skull helms. They had been engaged in battle with the castle guards, but that all changed as Chrom and Marth plowed through them, both Falchions gleaming streaks of silver that felled everything they cut through.

Robin paused long enough for her gaze to sweep this part of the castle. To her delight, the guards—and even some of the footmen—were proving able fighters. True, they weren't up to the Shepherds' standards by any means, but they were holding their own.

Once Chrom had dispatched the last invader, Robin caught his sleeve.

 _Have the cavaliers and Sumia guard the points that lead to the great hall. Kellam, Frederick, and Lon'qu as well. Have Lissa and Virion in place behind them. Everyone else, to the eastern wing_.

"Wait. Where are you going?"

She smiled brightly at him. _To protect your sister_.

Then, before he could protest, she tugged on the strand of light she'd been holding. It pulled her through to a golden path, but although the path shone brightly in the ever present dark, there was something deeper about the dark surrounding her this time.

"You must take care." Marth appeared beside her in a cloud of black butterflies. "Shadow stepping comes with its own perils."

Marth.

Ha! It was good to know that some of her suspicions had turned out to be correct. Robin was about to retort, but Marth grabbed her arm and tugged sharply to the right. Half a breath later, they crashed through something that gleamed silver-white and fell onto the carpet at the Exalt's feet.

Well, Robin fell. Marth simply stood there elegantly while Robin picked herself up.

"Robin." Emmeryn's eyes widened when she took in Marth. "And you are?"

"Here to protect you," Marth said, a liquid sheen collecting in her eyes.

Emmeryn's eyes narrowed as she studied the pair. "What has happened?"

 _We're under attack_. Robin gestured to Marth, wishing she'd had time to demand her proper name, _and she informed us that your life is at risk_.

"My life . . .?" A host of emotions played over Emmeryn's face, each one more complicated than the last. "Chrom and Lissa?"

"Are safe." Marth drew Falchion and pretended not to notice the sharp look Emmeryn gave her.

Emmeryn straightened, resolve burning in her eyes. "Then you must go to them. Protect them. I—"

"They will be safe," Marth said with a reassurance Robin envied a little. How nice it would be to have walked in the future. To know how things turned out. To know where they went wrong. To be able to fix past mistakes that meant the difference between victory and defeat. "You should probably get going."

Robin furrowed her brow. _But I—_

Marth shook her head. "I will guard the Exalt's life with my own."

"That won't be necessary," Emmeryn said, her usual serenity slipping back into place. "My life is no more important than—"

"Please," Marth said, her voice low. "I can't keep everyone safe by my own strength."

Robin drew back, surprised. Marth didn't have to say his name for Robin to know exactly who _everyone_ was comprised of. Somehow she was connected to Chrom, which meant—

"Your Grace." Marth bowed before hauling Robin through the shadows and onto the other side of the Exalt's door. "None shall pass. Now, please, you must—"

Robin's eyes nearly goggled right out of her head as she became aware that they were most definitely not alone. She had only been teasing Chrom earlier, for the most part, and yet—

"What is the matter?" Marth followed Robin's gaze. "Oh."

Like a half formed nightmare pulled into reality, a woman stalked toward them, her movements fast and agile and surprisingly springy. Her scowl and general shape looked human, but as for the rest of her . . .

Marth's gaze cut over to Robin. "You don't have to worry. Panne is—will be—an ally."

Subconsciously, Robin patted her head to make sure she hadn't sprouted rabbit ears as well. How in the world—

Anything either of them might have said fell silent as a number of golden shafts suddenly appeared, each of them impaling Robin's torso in a slightly different direction.

They stuck out of her like gold that had been spun into wire, but the end of each had been buried in her heart. She moved, but froze as a pain unlike anything she'd ever experienced before cut through her. Her heart throbbed where the end of each golden shaft bit down onto it.

Her panicked gaze found Marth's who was eyeing her the way Chrom sized up practice dummies before he pulverized them.

"Can you move?"

Robin meant to shake her head, but found to her surprise that while her initial movements felt like she was being cut to ribbons by a thousand swords, each wave of pain was smaller than the one before.

She grimaced as she forced herself to move. _Yes_.

"Good. Then go help them. We'll figure everything out after."

Robin hesitated, her gaze falling upon the . . . the rabbit woman that was eyeing them with unconcealed disgruntlement.

"Don't worry," Marth murmured. "I give you my solemn vow that no harm will come to the Exalt. I'll talk to Panne."

The rabbit woman's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You know my name, man-spawn?"

Marth nodded as she turned toward her. "I also know why you've come."

Before Robin could ask, Marth shoved her hard enough to slip through the light. Rather than falling into a messy heap as before, she landed with a thump in the corridor of the eastern wing that led to the Exalt's chamber.

Chrom startled around, her name on his lips.

The world shimmered for a second as a subtle pressure built up in the back of her throat. Robin's eyes widened. Was Miriel's potion actually going to w—

_Hiccup!_

The sound erupted from the center of her chest, bringing with it a sensation like magic scattering against sunshine.

"R-Robin. Are you all right?" Chrom swung Falchion at an assassin who had tried to creep past them.

She stared wide-eyed at the bubbles drifting gently around her face. When she opened her mouth to try to speak, another flurry of bubbles poured out from between her lips.

Ugh! Her whole mouth tasted like she'd taken to drinking soapy water. The hint of lemon in the under taste did nothing to disguise how horrible it tasted.

Making a face, Robin shut her mouth and wiped her lips on her sleeve.

All right then. Talking was still out.

Robin got to her feet, her mind busily taking in the details all around her. Her movements were careful as there were still around a dozen or so rods of light impaling her through the heart.

_I'm fine. Everything all right here?_

A light smile tugged at the corners of Chrom's mouth. "Well enough, all things considered."

_Do we know who's attacking us?_

He shook his head. "By appearance, they are Plegian, but there's something about them that's bothering me. I just haven't been able to pin it down yet."

When it became apparent that Chrom either hadn't noticed or was tactfully refraining from mentioning the glowing lights sticking out of her, Robin shoved those concerns to the side. She could worry about that after she ensured their home was safe once more.

Chrom tilted his head toward her as she stepped beside him and pulled out a tome.

"Emm?"

 _She's safe_. Robin gestured for them to proceed down the corridor. If they swept down this corridor and to the right, they could meet up with the other half of the Shepherds who were guarding the western wing.

Her thoughts automatically turned to Lissa. It was the first time she hadn't assigned one of the Shepherds to act as her personal guard. What if—

Robin was only aware of a sharp tug in her chest before she popped up next to the princess in question.

"Ahh!" Lissa shouted, before slapping her hands over her mouth.

Robin's startled cry resulted in a new halo of bubbles, and Lissa's alarm quickly turned to laughter.

"What in the heck—"

Robin grimaced and shook her head. They'd talk about this later. _Are you all right?_

"You mean besides being scared half to death?" Lissa grinned at her. "I'm good. It's you I'm worried about."

Robin waved a dismissive hand and frowned. Now to figure out why just thinking about Lissa had pulled her so abruptly from Chrom's side.

Chrom.

Who was completely alone, so far as she'd been able to tell. If he— Faster than thought, another sharp tug sent Robin speeding through light and space.

She was vaguely aware of Chrom's form leaping to the side as a flash of magic licked past her cheek. The next moment, she smashed into something that smelled like a toothache and was hard enough to kill her momentum entirely.

Her body wanted to remain stunned just long enough for her to get her breath back, but Robin forced herself to her feet. The object in question had turned out to be a copper-haired assassin who was glaring at her as he rubbed his head. Groaning, he reached for a dagger and one of the fancy silver plates the footmen carried around.

"Easy there . . . Bubbles."

Ignoring both his smirk and the cloud of bubbles trailing from her lips, Robin whipped out her tome and prepared to deal with the assassin.

Noting her intention, he held up his hands and backed away slowly. "This isn't what you think. I'm not here to hurt anyone."

"Really?" Chrom came up beside her, smelling faintly of burned aether. "Then what are you doing here?"

"Look, Blue, I'm just a lowly thief looking to score any loose gold that just happens to be lying around. You might say I'm just trying to make an honest living like everyone else."

Despite the gravity of the solution, Robin snorted—which led to her choking on some of the bubbles she'd ended up inhaling on accident. From his expression, Chrom didn't favor the thief's nickname. And from the thief's, he didn't seem to care.

"And yet you've come with a band of assassins." The iron in Chrom's tone made the thief shuffle a few hasty steps back.

The thief was careful to keep his hands away from a dagger he'd tucked into his belt. "Not my fault. Nobody said anything about killing until we got here. Word was, there was a vault or something that needed liberating. If I'd known things were going to turn out like this, I would have stuck to helping all the little old ladies and orphans in the middle district."

Chrom clenched his jaw as he stepped forward, but the thief was already backing up as fast as he could, all the while pleading his innocence.

To Robin's surprise, rather than ending everything then and there, some of the tension went out of Chrom's face. He wasn't smiling exactly. Then again, he no longer looked like he was about to smite the thief either.

"It is fortunate for you that you'll have ample opportunity to prove your good intentions."

"Right. Just like I was say—wait. What?"

If Robin hadn't caught a flicker of movement coming up the corridor from behind the thief she would have laughed at his dumbstruck expression.

Chrom nodded toward the next wave of assassins. "We need all the help we can get to protect the Exalt. If ever there was a time to reveal your true loyalties, now is the time."

The thief glowered at them before he picked up the dagger he'd dropped with one hand and the silver plate with the other. He muttered something about how hard it was to make an honest living as he swapped the plate with the second dagger on his belt.

"Fine. We can discuss payment later. My loyalty doesn't come cheap." He twirled the daggers in his hands before darting out to meet the mages who'd been sneaking up toward them.

"Scoundrel," Chrom growled.

Robin caught his sleeve, and when he looked at her, she smiled. She'd meant to reassure him, but froze in place as another shaft of light, this one more tenuous than the others, slowly formed between herself and the thief.

She swallowed hard against the echo of her earlier pain. Had he just hexed her somehow? More importantly, was he the one who'd impaled her in the first place?

"You all right?" Chrom's brow was furrowed and he tried to keep an eye both on her and a few of the assassins that had made it past the thief.

Robin pressed her lips together and nodded. As she prepared to blast through the assassin coming from the right, a ripple went through the corridor, nearly knocking her off her feet.

A deep cold planted itself in her gut as the shadows began to peel themselves off the wall, raining down as ink-dark petals.

As they fell, an unnatural hush seemed to suck all the air out of the corridor. Robin's heart pounded harder with each passing breath as the temperature dropped. The shafts of light tethered to her heart hardened, tearing in a little deeper. It was that pain that anchored her, kept her in place as the shadows shifted into people who looked as though they'd been cut from the night.

Except for the two dots of red that glowed in every hidden face.

A breath, a command, hissed through the air, and every ruby eye turned to Robin. She had only time enough to take a shaky breath before they leaped toward her as one.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for this being a little shorter-and a few hours later-than usual. Fun story: For some reason, this was-bar none-the most difficult chapter I've written to date. I very rarely have to deal with writer's block, and oh my goodness did this chapter make up for it. It wasn't until yesterday that I was finally able to start this chapter. Every time I sat down to write prior to yesterday ended up with what might have been words turning into square marbles that refused to do more than glower silently as the deadline approached. (It really didn't help that I was pretty certain yesterday was Friday, although the jolt of adrenaline from all the panic might have been what got the, er, marbles rolling. :p
> 
> Even then, this chapter turned out to be an unwieldy little creature right up until the end. When the shadow assassins finally showed up, and I realized they'd been waiting for this moment all along. This turned out to be connected to a realization I'd had a chapter or two back that a Lady without her Lord is pretty much just a cantankerous dragon dealing death and doom and despair. Even Grima would get tired of being alone after he ate everyone. :p
> 
> So yay! Got through this chapter-really excited for the next one. Not sure when this character is going to make everything official, but you can get an idea of what he's going to be like here: /Chrom_(Cipher). #RisenKing #notgonnabeanedgelordthough
> 
> Thanks again for stopping by and reading! I hope you're enjoying the ride as much as I am. :) Have a great week! (Oh, and have some virtual cake. Today is (well, technically tomorrow, but hey) FRACTURED's first birthday. It turned one today, and I can't believe how time has flown by. Those of you who've been with me from the beginning, and those who've joined me along the way, thank you! I'm incredibly lucky to have you. :D)


	35. Chapter Thirty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

He watched his beloved from the shadows, marveling at how delicate and beautiful she was, even in her unfinished state. The courage in her eyes had ever been a light for him to follow. A haven from the madness that befell them all with the setting of the sun.

An arc of silver caught his eye, and his gaze followed it without thinking. He flinched as the young man by her side slashed his sword in righteous fury, never noticing the way his blade tangled with the shadows, tearing them free.

Shadows that would one day form the protective mantle that would keep him safe from every danger that Grima had yet to devour.

Youth was a kind of madness of its own, he supposed, and only one that time could cure. The thought lodged itself like a thorn in the lump charcoal that had once been his heart.

Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to _her_. Sorrow had not yet robbed her of all her colors, and it was strange to see the halo of burnished earth crowning her head.

With a flick of his wrist, the shadows he had called rose as one, an army of darkness he had brought with him to call her home.

Her eyes widened, and she retreated a single step back, her tome open, but her hand indecisive. Clever girl. Not even a Thoron could halt his shadows, and the power of Light had long fallen through the pages of history, all but forgotten.

The subtle perfume of her fear drew him closer. It was a delicious irony that _she_ should be afraid of _him_ when it was she who had first banished his fears along with his mortality.

Lightning flashed as she unleashed her magic, cracking stone and scorching tapestries. But each blast did little more than force his army to reform around the tattered threads of light.

He quickened his step until he stood before her. He'd wanted to surprise her, wanted to see her smile, hungry for the color slowly draining from her skin.

For one impossible moment, rich earth met heart's blood, and as they hung suspended, locked in each other's gaze, he drank in the sight of her. Her glory was so pale as to be almost nonexistent, but the spark of her courage, the flash of her fury, the ripening bouquet of her terror, they all formed a heady aroma that nearly drove his purpose from his mind.

His name was on her lips as she turned white as bleached bone. He smiled then, unable to still the breathless wonder that used to flutter inside his chest.

He held out his hand as he issued his invitation. _Come_.

She stared at him, paralyzed and delectable. His name gliding over her lips on broken wings that would never know flight.

Not until her glorious transformation.

Her terror turned to horror as he caught her wrist, pulled her into what would become their eternal embrace. He buried his face at her throat, reveling in her scent. She was cool to the touch despite the panicked beat of her pulse. She still smelled of an autumn rain that had mixed with burning leaves and the evening fog. Why if—

Surprise stilled his movements, allowing her the time to slip beyond his grasp. He stared down at the magic that crackled within the hollow of his chest, lightly impaling his heart as it disintegrated what was left of his lungs.

His lips curved upward. Grima had not allowed him to keep many of his memories of her, but this one was the clearest of them all. It had been the seed of despair that had allowed his beloved to rise in the fullness of her glory.

And it had been his final moments as a man, weak with mortality.

The magic lodged in his chest snapped against the bones of his hand as he wrenched it free. He held it out to her, raising a brow as if to ask her what she planned to do next.

Her gaze flickered down to the sword on his belt. Could she hear the tortured cries of a broken legend's dreams as well? There was nothing so potent as hope that had twisted into despair, only to be warped by betrayal.

His beloved stumbled a few steps back before tripping over a felled assassin. She landed with a thump, and a flurry of bubbles streamed out from between her lips.

They shimmered with torchlight, beckoning him closer. He stretched out skeletal fingers, catching one lightly in his hand. He'd meant to pop it, yet now that he held it in his grasp, he could sense that this was no ordinary bubble.

His eyes narrowed as he peered through the fragile shell of the bubble and saw a word curled up in the center like a pearl.

Was that . . . ? Could it truly be?

He had often wondered what his name would sound like when uttered by this aspect of his beloved, but that hope—like all other hope—existed only to be crushed and ground into fine powder.

Yet there it lay, gleaming with potential it had yet to realize.

In that moment, when he stood in the place where two worlds met, his beloved chose to surprise him for a third time. By all rights, she should have sent them both tumbling backwards as she crashed into him.

Instead, pain lashed through his being as though he were being scorched beneath the light of a thousand suns. And rather than smashing into him, she passed through him as though he were nothing more than a forgotten shade.

The raw power she had released ate through his form like a particularly virulent acid. Dissolving him at a surprisingly accelerated rate.

He ought to have been annoyed with her. It would take a while to regather his strength and rebuild his form. Time and energy that would have been better spent elsewhere. Grima might not notice, but his beloved would, and he hated to displease her.

Yet as he pocketed the pearl he'd stolen, as he waited to disintegrate completely, he couldn't help but give her a parting gift of his own.

* * *

Chrom pulled Falchion up short as Robin, for reasons only she could enumerate, dove between him and an assassin mage. The mage recovered quickly while Robin lay stunned. Biting off a curse, Chrom tackled her out of the way, twisting to shield her body with his.

A scorching heat grazed his back as the spell whizzed past them to bury itself in the ground. He turned, brandishing Falchion, only to find the thief smirking as he cleaned his daggers on the fallen mage's robes.

"Pretty fancy footwork there, Blue." He pulled a sweet from his tunic, and unwrapped it before shoving it into his mouth. "Now that I've proven my good intentions, I'll be on my way."

"I'd ask you to reconsider," Chrom said as he turned his attention to Robin. There were no obvious wounds, but her face had lost all its color and the cheek he'd brushed his fingers against was ice. It was her eyes, though, that worried him the most.

Chrom pulled her gently to her feet, bracing himself as she staggered against him.

"Sorry, Blue, but I don't hobnob with the nobility." The thief paused long enough to offer a cheeky salute. "But if you ever find a safe that needs cracking, send your people to parley with my people."

"The castle guards have been charged to stop any who don't obviously belong here," Chrom said. He let out a breath of relief. Robin was a little steadier on her feet and her eyes had lost their glassy look. "They're like as not to cut you down if you get too far ahead of yourself."

The thief didn't stop walking, but his step faltered just enough to slow his pace. "The gardens—"

"—Are full of archers."

The thief turned around, his eyes narrowed. "Look, if this wasn't enough to prove my good intentions, then I don't know what is." He gestured to the bodies of his erstwhile companions that littered the corridor.

"Talk to me when the fighting's over." Chrom turned to Robin. "You all right?"

She nodded, and he made a mental note to have Lissa look her over afterward. Robin narrowed her eyes at him, then she pursued her lips and glanced at the thief.

 _He can fight_.

Chrom nodded. The man was highly skilled with his daggers, which worried him. Thieves weren't known for fighting—unless they were brigands.

 _A little too well_.

Robin's eyes lit up when he spoke through his fingers. _Well, he is a thief, and therefore disreputable. It's probably a job requirement._

Disreputable was putting it lightly. They'd have to search him before they let him go to ensure he didn't make off with more than a silver tray.

_Do you believe him? That he won't hurt Emm?_

Robin craned her neck around Chrom to study the thief. She had that look in her eye, the one that seemed to see through to a person's heart.

She nodded as she tugged on the cuffs on her coat. _He's likely going to be expensive_.

Chrom let out the breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. _If he helps us save Emm, then I'll deliver the gold to him myself_.

"Welp, as fun as this has been, what will it take for you to let me be on my way?" The thief had an impressive glower, but it said something that he hadn't vanished when he'd had the chance. Nor had he tried to attack them.

"Help us keep the Exalt safe. Once the castle has been secured, we'll discuss your reward."

The thief raised a brow. "Did it ever occur to you that I might have spent all the good intentions I had on hand?"

To Chrom's surprise, Robin laughed. This resulted in a waterfall of bubbles, each one glimmering with a silvery light. She wiped a bit of the froth from her lips with the corner of her sleeve and nodded as though coming to a decision.

 _We need to sweep toward the right to clear this area of all assassins. Once we're done here, we can to visit Miriel_.

Chrom nodded. "Let's go."

The thief gave them a very unloving look. "Just like that?"

"Just like that." Chrom glanced at Robin before following her lead and running down the rest of the corridor. The thief would either follow or become a pincushion if he insisted on slipping away.

As distasteful as Chrom found the thief's profession, he couldn't help believing that maybe, just maybe, their meeting had been more than simple coincidence.

With war brewing on the horizon, they could use every capable warrior willing to lend a hand.

It was strange, running down the corridor that was so completely empty of life. The scrape of metal, the clang of swords, the shouting—all the sounds of battle—were just loud enough to be heard.

But it was enough to spur him to run faster. So long as any Ylissean drew breath, there would always be hope.

Hope for a peaceful future—

A twang softer than a whisper had been his only warning. He was already moving when Robin slammed into him with her shoulder, forcing him out of the way.

Chrom hugged her around the middle, pulling her with him. It was only after they'd landed, and the arrow had landed with a thunk in the wall behind them, that he realized he'd dropped Falchion at some point.

The thief darted past them as he and Robin righted themselves. By the time he had Falchion back in hand, the archer had been dealt with.

 _We need to hurry_. Worry creased a line in between Robin's eyes.

"Let's go." Chrom didn't spare a look behind him as they sprinted around the corner and up another corridor that led to the great hall.

He could almost see the fear curling around and away from Robin. This side of the castle was relatively free from assassins, so why was she anxious?

Chrom almost stopped long enough to ask her, when a shadow seemed to peel itself away from the wall. They pulled up short, and Chrom put out a hand so Robin remained a step behind him. The thief stood half a step in front of her to her left.

"I hope you've got a plan, Blue," the thief muttered, no longer looking quite so cocky.

"Robin?" Chrom shifted so he could see her from the corner of his eye.

She blinked at the sound of his voice, though she remained impossibly pale.

 _Chrom, you've got to run_. She was shaking so hard, she could barely form the words. _Now! You've got to go now!_

There was no time to argue, so he didn't. Instead, he remained stubbornly in place.

_Chrom!_

"I'm not leaving you, Robin. You're going to have to come up with a better plan."

A slight movement pulled his gaze back toward the shadow.

No.

Not a shadow.

A man.

"Wait. Bubbles is the one in charge?" The incredulous note in the thief's voice would have made Chrom smile if the wintry dread radiating from their enemy hadn't been so strong.

The man sneered as he began to close the distance between them. "Fools. So you've come to court death?"

A violet flame appeared in his had, and twin lights flickered in each of his eyes. The shadows seemed to cling to him, and Chrom could almost feel the evil burning in the man's heart.

"Why have you come?" Chrom demanded. Falchion stood as a silver light between them and the man of shadows.

The man's lips stretched into a thin smile. "I've come to claim the soul of the Exalt. Leave now, and I promise you a clean death. Continue to play the fool, and I shall show you every single fate that is worse than death."

"I hate to say it, Blue, but we might be outclassed here." The thief balanced on the balls of his feet, a dagger ready in each hand, but he didn't move from his place.

"Leave now, and we spare your life," Chrom countered. Fury and Falchion fought to see who could burn the brightest.

"Fools! You dare to threaten me?" The man opened a dark tome that crackled with violet energy. "Though you are unworthy, you shall be the first to feed my lord."

Before Chrom could unleash Falchion, golden light shot out from Robin's hands, neatly pinning the man to the wall.

The man's screams echoed through the corridor, and wisps of smoke uncurled where Robin's spell had cut through him.

Though she was visibly shaking, she pushed past both of them to come to stand in front of the man. His face was clenched in agony, but he froze as the golden light gathering in her palm let off enough light for him to see her clearly.

"Can it be?" He struggled against the spell as he tried to draw closer. "Have I really found you?"

Robin didn't respond. Not even when Chrom rested a hand on her shoulder, reminding her that she wasn't standing there alone. Her body was still tremoring lightly, but the rest of her went still beneath his touch.

"Is it you?"

Robin stiffened right before she thrust her spell so hard and fast into the man's heart that he died with the sound of her name on his lips.

"Robin?"

* * *

_Meanwhile in the Mirror Realm . . ._

* * *

Chrom's heart pounded miserably. He wanted to pull her into his arms. Stroke her hair until the grief wracking itself through her body stilled enough for him to see what she needed more clearly.

But he couldn't do that. At best he could only watch her silently. She was out there, and he was in here. Not just in here, but bound to this place. He could no more leave the realm than he could sprout fins and scales so he could breathe under water.

Most of the Shepherds had gathered around him. There were still a few who were dealing with whatever assassins remained, but most of them had finished.

Emm was safe. That's what mattered. But the thought didn't comfort him, because it was a lie. Or, rather, a truth hidden behind the bright wall of pain lining his heart.

Emm was safe, but _she_ was not. So long as Robin remained in the other world, she was in danger of cracking or fading. There were a thousand ways a reflection could die, and he wouldn't be there to warn her. To protect her. To draw her home.

Why could she stand in a place he could never have any hope of reaching?

"Chrom." Lissa spoke soft enough that he almost didn't hear her. She didn't say anything else. She just stood by him while they waited.

"Her heart is breaking." His voice came out as ragged as he felt inside. And the empty space in his arms pounded in time with his own heartbreak. "That man means something to her. Something terrible."

Chrom didn't have to explain anything more than that. They'd already trapped and bound the man who was little more than evil incarnate. He sat on the ground, sagging over. But even here, the brilliant light of Robin's spell shone like a star trapped within the man's chest.

He hadn't died with his body, because they'd already bound him. Theirs was a world that bound life, but they couldn't end it. And because of their interference, a small piece of the man had survived.

One more thing Chrom had no power to do anything about.

"You couldn't have known, Milord." Frederick had been quietly studying him the entire time. "We will bind him so completely that it will be a millennium before he can entertain any thoughts of stirring."

"I'm afraid it won't be that simple." Miriel had been scribbling in a book of hers like a mind possessed. Papers littered the floor at her feet, each filled top to bottom with her neat and precise handwriting.

"Explain." Panne crossed her arms and waited, expectant.

Miriel shuffled through a few more papers before she looked up. "This one bears a strange mark on his soul that is atypical for all but a few."

"What sort of mark?" Chrom asked. He could still feel the frantic beating of Robin's heart as she'd faced the man down. His hand closed around Falchion's hilt, but for the first time, the warmth she instilled within him failed to raise his spirits.

"That will require more time for me to research properly, but it is my belief that it is a mark of the old ones."

"Old ones?" Lissa polished the end of her staff with her thumb. "What kind of old ones?"

Miriel's smile was small and tight. "The draconian kind."

Her words turned Chrom's blood to ice. "We're dealing with another dragon?"

"Or one of his or her emissaries." Miriel nodded to his left shoulder. "Such things are not without precedent, however few of the dragon kind are as . . . gentle as the Lady Naga."

Chrom bit off a curse. Dragons complicated everything. Wherever they walked, wars, death, and destruction followed—the degree of which depended upon how far they'd fallen into the abyssal peak of their insanity.

And one of them had come for Robin.

Robin.

Who was out there.

Not alone, no, but none of them out there would have the slightest idea of what was to happen or how to keep her safe.

It was then that Chrom remembered Marth. A tendril of hope ignited his soul as he recalled that Robin wasn't the only one who could realm hop.

"What should we do then?" Sumia asked. The ground around her feet looked as though a manakete had crash landed through a field full of flowers, flattening everything in its path.

"I don't know." Miriel pursed her lips.

The silence that fell was swift and sudden.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Vaike asked, swinging his ax casually from hand to hand. "All you need to do is send in the Vaike and—"

"And what?" Miriel's expression turned peevish as she adjusted her spectacles. "There are few who can withstand the dragon kind, and fewer who are equipped to do so. Anyone else would be rushing toward their own deaths prematurely without the ability to make any difference at all."

"Well, yeah." Some of the cocky went out of Vaike's grin. "But we've got _her_ , and she was made to take out dragons. So no problem, right?"

The long-suffering sigh that came from Miriel was one that they'd all echoed unconsciously.

"Moron." Sully smacked Vaike's arm. " _He_ isn't the dragon, so there's not much else Falchion can do to him."

"Right." Chrom hated to say it, but anything else would be a lie.

Vaike rolled his eyes. "I'm pretty sure Falchion is sharp enough to deal with the non-dragon part of him."

"Vaike." Maribelle snapped her parasol closed. "While well-meaning, you're being quite tiresome. He already died out there. In some ways, we've sealed his fate. The problem doesn't lie in the material, but rather how much this one could act as a vessel."

"So he's like a cup or saucer?" Donnel asked, scratching his head. "'Cause I jest don't see it."

They all turned toward the fallen man, silently appraising his shape.

Chrom shook his head. "What can we do, Miriel? To keep everyone safe?"

Miriel's glower softened a little. "It is with regret that I cannot affirm one way or another. To know the correct course to pursue, I must first gain clarity in understanding exactly what he is and what threat he poses. It will take time to study him well enough to advise you correctly, Prince Chrom."

"Chrom's fine," he said automatically, his thoughts back with Robin. She had no memory of her past, so why had this man nearly shattered her heart?

"The best we can do, Milord, is secure his person completely." Frederick paused as though choosing his words carefully. "We can, of course, set a guard to watch over Robin."

Chrom nodded. It was the best they could do at the moment. He turned to Miriel, holding up a thin golden thread that connected his heart to Robin's. "Will this complicate matters?"

"It shouldn't." Ricken spoke up for the first time. He flushed a little as everyone turned their attention toward him. "If anything, it should make guarding Robin easier. We'll never lose track of her this way."

"You're certain?" Chrom grimaced. He hadn't meant the doubt in his voice to creep through.

Ricken turned bright red and dropped his gaze. "I . . . spent a great deal of time studying dragons. And magic. I know what I'm talking about."

Miriel frowned at the boy, but held her peace. Very well. If Miriel raised no objections, then he wouldn't either.

"Thank you. I'll need you to work closely with Frederick if the magerial college can spare you."

Despite the blush still staining his cheeks, Ricken grinned. "They shouldn't have a problem. I'll just let them know you require my help."

"Please do."

"Fools. You think you can contain me." The man they'd all thought was unconscious lifted his head. His voice sounded like the rasp of batwings, but it was the malice gleaming in his eyes that caught Chrom's attention.

It took all of Chrom's restraint not to walk over and see if Falchion couldn't bend a few immutable laws. Instead, he set his jaw and clamped his hand around the hilt.

"Why have you come?" he demanded. Robin had calmed down somewhat, but this man should never have had the ability to hurt her in the first place.

The man struggled within his bonds for a moment before relaxing. "Now that I know where she is, nothing will be able to stop what is coming."

"Which is?" Frederick held his lance lightly in his hands, his grim expression echoing everyone else's.

"Long has my lord slumbered, but now he shall awaken. In that day, you shall all of you mark my words with your final dying breaths."

"Chrom?" Lissa's voice quavered somewhere in the middle, and although she was doing her best to look unruffled, some of Robin's earlier fear was reflected in her eyes.

"Place him in the Silver Glass," Chrom said, frowning. If he had his way, he'd have sent the man to the deepest, darkest hole in the abyss. But creatures like him thrived in the dark, and there was nothing more painful, nothing more fearful than light.

Which would also make it easier to ensure he remained in place.

"Just you wait until my lord rises—"

"I don't know if you've noticed," Sully said, "but you died out there. Even if your lord rises, you won't be out there to see it happen. Now shove a boot in it before I do."

"I'll find the answer," Miriel said as she gathered her papers and ushered Ricken away.

"Thank you."

He waited until nearly everyone else had gone before he allowed himself to relax his posture.

"So how do these things work?" He held out his thread to his sister.

"I-I'm not sure, exactly." Color flooded Lissa's cheeks. "They are the bonds we have between each of us and Robin. The stronger they are, the thicker they are. No one will be able to keep her in the other realm, not once our bonds are thick enough to bring her here."

Chrom mulled his little sister's words over. They didn't sit rightly with him. She'd made it sound as though Robin was a bird they intended to cage once they got close enough.

"If she stays it must be of her own free will." The words bit like iron, but he forced them out anyway. While his heart was wholly and completely hers, he would never force her to choose him. Such a deed would destroy anything they held between them.

"She'll kind of have to." Lissa said, a faint pout on her lips. "She can't stay out there forever. And the longer she stays away, the more dangerous it is for her. If Robin wants to survive, then she's going to have to choose to stay here."

"But what of those she would leave behind?" The thought had sat like a dark stain upon his own heart. His counterpart was not him, no matter how he may wish it were true. Because they were connected, he could feel the love the Chrom out there had for Robin.

Right along with the joy of knowing his feelings were mutual.

Would Robin choose death over being separated from the ones she loved? He wouldn't put it past her.

Lissa squeezed his hand. "That's why we've got to find their Robin."

Chrom blinked. "Their Robin?"

She nodded. "I have no idea why they aren't together, other than this is Robin we're talking about. But for our Robin to exist, their Robin has to too. And we'll find her, Chrom. Everyone can have a happy ending."

Fairy tales. His sisters had always loved fairy tales. Was it really possible that they could all have their happily ever after?

His gaze fell to the slender thread of gold resting on his palm. "Her bonds will be stronger to those out there."

"Now isn't forever, and Emm said—" Too late, Lissa clapped her hands over her mouth.

"Wait. Why is Emm involved in this?" It wasn't that Chrom wanted to hide things from his sister. The court and their people had always piled demands on top of her, so he always did his best to lighten those cares wherever he could.

Lissa frowned. "She's worried about you, Chrom. We all are."

He sighed, all of his frustrations fed by how powerless he felt at the moment. Chrom had never been one to sit back when things needed doing. Never before had he felt so out of his element.

"While I appreciate the concern, I really will be all right, Liss."

Lissa hung her head. "I know, but with what happened with Lucane . . . I just can't sit back and watch this time. Not when there's something we can do."

Chrom rocked back on his heels, stunned. So that was where all this was coming from.

"Robin isn't Lucane." The words tasted like ashes on his tongue. By mutual, unspoken consent, they'd agreed to never bring him up. The healer had been kind and gentle, a perfect match for Emm.

Until an arrow meant for her had cut their future short.

Lissa didn't say anything. She didn't have to.

It wasn't until he felt her gently uncurling his fingers from where he'd tangled them in the thread that he came back to himself.

"I didn't understand everything Miriel said, but what I did catch is that this is your ticket to Robin. You just have to hold it and think of her. You won't be able to go to her all the way, but you will be able to see her. And if she's paying attention, she'll be able to see you."

Hope shuddered through every part of Chrom's being.

"I can talk to her?"

Lissa handed him his thread. "Miriel kind of lost me before she got to that part, so you won't know until you try."

He nodded. "Thank you, Liss."

"Don't worry," she said, determination burning in her eyes. "We'll find the other Robin and set everything right."

The lump in Chrom's throat made talking impossible.

Lissa grinned up at him. "Now go. You should probably ask Robin what she knows about that creepy death monkey."

Chrom raised a brow, but Lissa only shrugged.

"Prune of death or death spider doesn't have the same flair."

Chuckling, Chrom shook his head before he pinched the golden thread carefully between a finger and his thumb. He closed his eyes and thought of Robin.

The way her eyes always seemed to hold stars no matter what time of day it was. The soft halo of hair framing her face and sweeping lightly against her shoulders. The sound of her silent laughter, and how her entire being lit up when she was happy.

The way it felt to hold her in his arms. To stare up at the sky and pluck stories from the clouds.

A gentle wind rushed over him, and when Chrom opened his eyes, hers was the first face he found.

Their counterparts were gathered around Robin and Marth, and although their lips were moving, none of their words made it past their realm and into his.

They never did.

Even so, he was enthralled with the goodness and beauty that radiated off of Robin. There was something otherworldly about her. Something so absolutely genuine in a world where courtly masks were all that could be seen.

He set his jaw as he considered the man standing beside her, holding her hand lightly in his. The happiness filling him had overflowed into everything he touched.

It was strange in a way. He'd never thought the man he would have to best would be his own counterpart. But as he watched them, his determination grew. They would find Robin's counterpart if they had to scour the entirety of the seven realms to do it.

It wasn't entirely for his own selfish reasons that this had to be, for his lack wouldn't be shouldered by him alone. Part and counterpart did not exist without a connecting point that bound them together.

One's fate would always be reflected on them both—for good or for ill.

And once they found Robin's counterpart, they'd search for the one who had severed her connection with herself. Only then would he breathe easy.

He watched a little longer, marveling that the others couldn't see it. The bits and pieces where she didn't quite fit flush with the realm she walked in. The way an edge here or an edge there caught the light and held it twinkling in the space between her movements.

Chrom was so absorbed in memorizing her every detail that he didn't realize Robin had caught sight of him at first. Her eyes went wide and bubbles streamed like pearls out of her mouth.

"C-Chrom? What are you doing? Why are you . . . ?" Her brow furrowed as she glanced at the Chrom standing by her side.

The air went out of him like he'd been punched in the gut. Not only could she see him, but she could talk to him too?

"Robin." The whisper of her name curled around his heart, but lacked whatever power it was she'd tapped into that allowed her voice to pass between the realms.

But that didn't matter. Not anymore.

With a heart far lighter than it had been of late, Chrom pressed his hand against the boundary that stood between his realm and hers.

All was not lost.

All would be made right.

All would be well.

Chrom bowed in farewell. He grinned at the look Robin gave him before turning to go find Miriel. If anyone could solve this riddle, she could.

His silent promise drifted to the ground behind him in a flutter of pure white petals. It shimmered for a moment before it passed between the realms, binding them one breath closer than they'd stood before.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't normally name my chapters, but if I did, this one has a few options: A Tale of Three Chroms; Three Chroms Are Better Than One; Why Have One Chrom When You Can Have Three?
> 
> So, a brief note of explanation: Once I learned of the Risen King card in the Fire Emblem Cipher game, I knew he was going to show up here at some point or another. Haha! I didn't expect it to be so soon. But there he is.
> 
> Risen Chrom's section was a lot of fun to write. Mostly because I'm a visual thinker, so metaphors are my go-to tool for translating what's in my head to paper and screen, and his sections let me metaphor away without constraint. :D
> 
> Normal Chrom was next, only to be followed by Mirror!Chrom. (Haha! A couple of you mentioned you really liked the story because of how Chrom was written. Well, your wish is my subconscious's demand. :p) As fun as this chapter was to write, now I'm wondering what Chrom would think if he realized there were two other Chromish counterparts . . . (The expression he's giving me is one of his trademark scowls, followed by him squeezing Robin's hand a little tighter. Make of that what you will. :p) I'm thinking this is the limit of how many Chroms will be running around the story. Chrom and Mirror!Chrom are related, and the Risen King won't have a counterpart, so unless Robin has found a way to clone him, three should be Chrom's upper limit.
> 
> Probably.
> 
> *Note: Sections that fall in the Mirror Realm will be offset (hopefully) by a double line.
> 
> I wanted to say thank you for stopping by, reading, commenting, sharing, and just being there to share the ride. I really hope you've enjoyed FRACTURED as much as I have. You are awesome, and I thank you! :D
> 
> I'd originally wanted to release a new story to coincide with FRACTURED's first birthday, but it's going to take another 6-12 months until it will be ready. But with Christmas around the corner, and because I'm going to have to start it the normal way anyway, I can give you the first half. It'll be posted by tomorrow (23 December 2018) at the latest, but hopefully today. It'll be called A Dragon's Lullaby.
> 
> Both FRACTURED and LULLABY started with a single question. For FRACTURED, it was: What if Robin wasn't Robin, but [Redacted]. For LULLABY, it was: What if Robin had met Chrom when she was a little girl instead? Him being ten and her being eight. (Small difference. Her name is Rynne-in part because she was never given a name. Her older brother is named Robin-instead of being twins, he's two years older. Also, bits and pieces of her turn dragonish when she's super happy or sad or angry. This is not very convenient for a variety of reasons. :p Both stories will operate independently, so Robin in FRACTURED is not related to the Rynne in LULLABY.
> 
> LULLABY won't have a regular posting schedule like FRACTURED. I will likely post at least a chapter a month, but this will be highly variable depending on how Real Life Stuff is going. FRACTURED's posting schedule will not be interrupted for this. Haha! So despite my inability to write good copy, here it is-er, there it will be once I post it.  
> (*´∀`*)
> 
> HUZZAH!


	36. Chapter Thirty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

_She had been the first soul he'd devoured in a very long time._

_Suffocating under the weight of her own despair, she hadn't cared. All she'd wanted was for the bitter emptiness ravaging her soul to end._

_But in this, she was to be disappointed._

_To be chosen was to balance along that fine line where salvation and annihilation met. One single misstep, one careless moment, and she would finally have the end she had craved for so long._

_Which was why he would never let her be. The path that stretched between them had been carved of blood and bone. A hopeless despair that offered a possible key to unlock the silver within the storm. A brilliant ray of sunlight too weak to pierce the clouds._

_A light that had to be there, because she could not believe otherwise._

_And so the monster led her carefully along. So carefully that she never once noticed the strings that moved her limbs, nor heard the tortured whispers that cried ink-dark tears of truth. Nor did she ever once consider stepping off the path that wound its tortuous way to the abyss where eternal hunger raged_.

"Robin? Are you all right?"

Chrom's voice pulled her away from the vision she'd been dreaming while the court had gathered in an impromptu meeting to finalize some way of what must be done.

They'd panicked, in their stately way, without ever coming to an agreement beyond the recognition that something must be done.

That had been five hours ago. Or, as Robin discovered that she and Chrom were the only ones left in the meeting hall, five hours ago was when she'd stopped keeping count.

She nodded, but couldn't quite tear herself away from the memory of her dream. The story had woven it's tragic threads into every breath she'd taken from the moment it had first carried her away. Each thread pounding at her temple in time with her heartbeat.

"What have you got there?" His voice soothed away some of the bleak despair.

Robin blinked at the pendant she'd been passing hand to hand and shook her head. When it had first come to her, it had been a butterfly with dark purple wings marked with crimson circles that looked like three pairs of eyes staring back at her. At some point, the living creature had turned to gold inlaid with tiny stones cut to catch the light.

_I don't know, to be honest_.

Chrom took her hand in his, but rather than lacing his fingers through hers, he stared into her palm, tracing every line and curve with his eyes.

"You're starting to sparkle." His gaze flickered up to hers before it dropped back down to her hand. Then, as if to clarify what he meant, "Around the edges."

Robin rubbed her head and sighed, releasing a stream of bubbles that bobbed in the space between them. Miriel was eighty-seven point three percent certain the bubbles would clear up once the elixir had run its course.

Which could be any time between now and forever.

Hypothetically.

There was also the matter of the shafts of gold that had turned her into the world's most human-shaped pincushion. For a moment, she thought he'd seen them too, but she had a feeling that even Chrom would have said something if he'd seen them.

Probably with a healer on hand.

Robin raised a brow. She didn't want to sign if that meant losing the comforting warmth of Chrom's hands. When he didn't continue, she leaned over to stare up at him.

His eyes widened before they softened, and he smiled. It was slight, but there. That was all that mattered.

She made a show of checking for any errant sparkles, and was rewarded with a slight twitch of his lips.

Chrom shook his head before leaning his forehead against her own. "Like the time back in Regna Ferox. Before you . . ." His breath hitched slightly. "Before Marth took you away."

Ah.

As much as Robin didn't want to move, she gently untangled herself so she could scoot her chair directly across from Chrom's.

_I will never leave you_ , she promised. Her mind spun busily as she sought for something—anything—that she could say to comfort him. _Not ever_.

"If you had—if Marth hadn't—"

She reached out to press her finger against his lips, trying to work out the precise nature of the problem pressing down on him. It wasn't like Chrom to worry.

_Do you really think I'd let a little thing like dying stop me? Alive, I'm here by your side. Dead, well, let's just say that you'd have someone who could rival Kellam haunting you_.

"Thank you, I think."

Robin narrowed her eyes as she studied him. _Your family is safe. Miriel and Frederick are working together to ensure something like this never happens again_.

Chrom nodded. "We have Marth to thank for that." He laughed softly. "I think I'm still trying to make sense of where she fits. How it's possible for her to be from the future and here, our present, her past."

Marth.

Another item on Robin's to-do list.

Robin waited for Chrom to go on. Their resemblance was uncanny. Too uncanny for 'Marth' to be anything other than a direct descendant, and likely a close one as well. Emmeryn had to have noticed the brand in 'Marth's' left eye, faint though it appeared. Now that she wasn't wearing that mask of hers anymore, the mark was there for all to see.

The thought made Robin feel more than a little hollow inside.

"Yet here she is. So she must be all she says she is."

_Chrom_ . . . Robin paused, unsure how to put her question into words.

"Indeed I am."

They both jerked their heads toward the door where 'Marth' was leaning against the frame, watching them.

"You have our gratitude," Chrom said, standing. "If it were not for you, my sister . . . "

'Marth' waved his words away as she walked over to them. "Saving the Exalt was one of the wrongs I swore to set right."

"Only one of them?"

Robin huffed a sigh of impatience, doing her best to ignore the pounding in her head. Why hadn't he noticed her eye yet? He was forever staring into her own. Not that she minded, but surely he was a little more observant than this.

Right?

'Marth' nodded.

"Isn't it dangerous," Chrom asked, resting his hand on Falchion, "to interfere with the past?"

"Affecting any part of the past is perilous in its own right." 'Marth' frowned at the toes of her boots. "But sometimes the benefit outweighs the risk."

Robin glanced at Chrom before zeroing in on 'Marth.' Her facial features, her coloring, even her fighting style all tied back to Chrom. A daughter—or a granddaughter at the very least.

Chrom's eyes widened. "Oh! No, I didn't mean . . . That is, to say—we are all very grateful you saved Emm!"

'Marth' shifted uncomfortably in place. "Yes, well . . ."

Robin watched, intrigued. They even shared the same hand-on-Falchion-perplexed-scowl-shifting-from-one-foot-to-the-other thing they did whenever they were puzzled or knocked off kilter.

Which, given Chrom's natural charisma and 'Marth's' air of mystery, happened with surprising frequency.

"I mean it," Chrom said earnestly. "If there is anything you wish, you have only to ask."

'Marth' pressed her lips together, considering. "I ask only that you continue to trust me. I-I may not be able to explain certain things, but you may believe me when I tell you that I work only for your good."

"We are in your debt."

Robin frowned. Laying aside Chrom's deplorable observational skills—he had to be exhausted—why wouldn't 'Marth' say something? After all, she would know better than any of them what a force for good Chrom was.

Wouldn't she?

Unbidden, the image of the man much like Chrom came to mind. Ruby eyes instead of the blue of the sky. Skin too pallid to be healthy or good. One hand little more than a collection of bones. In many ways, he had been a parody of Chrom—everything the living, breathing Chrom was not.

And the way he had looked at her—

Robin shook her head. Whatever it had been, it wasn't Chrom. She lost track of her thoughts as she realized she'd tangled her fingers in the chain of the butterfly pendant.

Her fingers stilled. How had she forgotten? After she'd thrown herself, along with the Lightning crackling at her fingertips, the monster had vanished, leaving behind a dark purple butterfly with crimson eyes etched on its wings.

"Robin?"

Chrom's voice and his feather light touch on her arm pulled Robin back into the present. She blinked, only to find herself under both Chrom and 'Marth's' scrutiny. Shoving the pendant into her pocket, she shifted so as to address them both.

_Sorry. What did you need?_

"You need another infusion," 'Marth' said.

Another infusion? So soon? _I'm fine_.

"Robin." The exasperation in Chrom's voice was dampened by the smile he gave her as he shook his head.

"It is better to go back before you start to shatter," 'Marth said, folding her arms.

_But I—I have reports and—_

Chrom put an effective end to Robin's protests by pulling her into his arms. "Frederick's already on it. Everything will be all right."

Robin pursed her lips. The reports were only an excuse. Surely he—

"I'll be missing you every moment you're away. Hurry back."

Robin's heart pounded with the words he'd murmured for her, and her alone. She allowed herself to relax in his arms for the rare moment when all was quiet and everyone else . . .

'Marth!'

Face burning, Robin peeked in 'Marth's' direction. To her surprise, 'Marth's' completion was ruddier than her own by a full magnitude of degrees. Also, her attention was focused intently on the ceiling.

Regret turned one step colder as Robin forced herself to step out of Chrom's embrace. The sooner she left, the sooner she'd return.

_I will_.

If 'Marth' hadn't been so obvious in her determination not to intrude, Robin would have kissed Chrom then and there. She could almost picture his expression, and she would have cherished it while she was away.

As it was, 'Marth' was already blushing so fiercely that Robin was afraid of doing anything that might make it permanent.

There was always next time.

She waved a hand to catch 'Marth's' attention.

"I think," 'Marth' couldn't quiet bring herself to look at them, "I'll show you how to find the path back to the correct node in the Mirror Realm. I may not always be able to get back to you in time."

Robin nodded and squeezed Chrom's hand before she let go. She glanced over her shoulder long enough for him to see the silent promise hidden in her eyes before she stepped with 'Marth' into a cloud of ink-dark butterflies.

* * *

_Now entering the Mirror Realm . . ._

* * *

 

Once the butterflies fluttered away, Robin was able to see this Mirror Realm of 'Marth's' with greater clarity than she had before. Though most of the world before her was darker than a Grimleal's heart, she had the unshakable impression that she wasn't staring out at one world, but all of them put together.

"What now?" she asked, or meant to, anyway. Instead, her words floated out of her mouth on a train of silver bubbles. They were still loud enough to be heard, but her voice came out slightly distorted.

The look on 'Marth's' face would have made Robin laugh if she hadn't been trying to burn the few bubbles still remaining with the power of her glare.

Why? How?!

"You have got to be kidding me!"

"Perhaps we should work on finding the correct place before we do anything else." 'Marth' cleared her throat before pointing into the darkness shrouding everything in an eternal night. "What do you see?"

As Robin peered into the nothingness, a few pale lines faded into view. Those were followed by a few more until they formed a pattern that Robin could almost make sense of. In fact, as more lines appeared, she felt as though she was staring at a map of sorts. But rather than being flat marks on parchment, each line seemed to occupy its own space and time.

"Everything," Robin breathed, heedless of anything else but the bustling worlds stretched out before her.

"Good." If 'Marth' was surprised, she didn't show it. "Now close your eyes and try to feel which pathways are calling to you the loudest. Those are the ones that you've formed bonds with."

Robin did as she was told.

And regretted it a moment later when something hot and fierce pulled against her heart. She opened her eyes, only to be reminded of those strange rods of light sticking out of her like golden needles on a pincushion.

For once, 'Marth' truly, completely lost her composure. Her mouth dropped open. If she had been anyone other than, 'Marth', she would have recoiled.

Interesting. She hadn't seen them when they were back home, so why could she see them now?

"You—What—You're . . ."

"Not amused. The word you're looking for is not amused." Robin rubbed at the tender spot where she supposed her heart to be. Between the pain in her heart, missing Chrom, and her adrenaline crashing now that the fighting was over with, she wanted nothing more than a quiet room in which she could retire until she felt like dealing with the world again. "But neither am I wounded. It is, however, extremely uncomfortable, so if you have any suggestions, I'm all ears."

"I—I'm sorry, m-my Lady. I have never seen anything like this before. May I?" She reached toward one of the shafts with her finger.

Robin nodded, her eyes narrowed. This was the first time 'Marth' had gone formal on her. While it was true that nothing about 'Marth' suggested anything less than brusque formality, she had never Lady-ed Robin before that she could remember.

"Your manners seem very courtly. Few people know enough about me to refer to my title." Robin did her best to look stern, but couldn't ignore the twinge of her own hypocrisy. It weren't for the infrequent reminders, she would have forgotten her title completely.

'Marth' hummed something that could have meant anything, and flicked her finger as though to tap one of the rods. Instead of touching it, however, her finger passed right through. And then, because the universe had conspired to give Robin a headache she would never be able to forget, a slender rod that seemed more like string, stretched from 'Marth' and planted itself in Robin's heart.

The silence that fell around them was absolute. 'Marth's' look of horror was genuine enough for Robin to be sure that she had neither expected that to happen, nor had any idea that it could.

The pressure at her temples began to pulse in time with her heart.

"All right. Spill it."

"Spill . . . it?"

"Who are you really?" Robin held up a hand to forestall any of the ready denials with which 'Marth' cloaked herself. "I somehow doubt that Marth is your real name, and besides that, what is your connection to Chrom?"

"I . . ." 'Marth' fell back a step. "That isn't something I can—you'll have to trust me. Please."

"Trust runs both ways," Robin said, not completely insensible to the other girl's plea. "I do trust you," she realized the truth of her words as she spoke them aloud, "as far as I can. But I'm not wrong about your connection to Chrom, am I?"

'Marth' sighed, her shoulders hunched over in the first display of poor posture Robin had ever seen. She shook her head. "I truly cannot say anything else concerning this. The consequences for doing so would be dire."

The memory of the monster who had worn Chrom's face was still so vivid that Robin could remember every single detail. From his disintegrating corpse to the light of hopeless despair in his eyes. But even though all had been lost for him, beneath it all she glimpsed the love he held tight with both hands. Time would end, the worlds would all disappear, before he would ever let go.

As if roused by her memories, the pendant fluttered its wings restlessly before quieting back into gold rimed with rubies and amethysts.

The cost of trusting the wrong person could also be dire. Robin shook her head. Frederick had no qualms against 'Marth.' And he'd come around so far as Robin was concerned, hadn't he?

Eventually.

Despite her driving need for keep the world at a distance, 'Marth' had only ever come offering both her sword and her aid. Usually at the last moment, and always to good effect. And for some reason, Robin felt the urge to shelter 'Marth' where she could. Like pulling a metaphorical chick under her wing.

Likely because of how much she resembled Chrom. And partly because of the resolute brokenness in her eyes, lurking just beneath the brand.

"How about we try this again?" she asked, rubbing her heart in anticipation of being impaled by light.

Again.

"Close your eyes and see if you can feel yourself being pulled in any one direction."

She was doing this for Chrom. The sooner this Realm's Lissa patched her back up, the sooner she could go back home.

Setting her jaw, Robin closed her eyes. This wasn't hard. She just had to—There!

This time something tugged gently at her. She reached toward it carefully. When nothing unpleasant happened, she pictured herself moving toward it. In a way she couldn't explain, Robin knew that she was traveling over a great distance.

The further she went, the more the gentle tug thickened until she could almost feel the distance slipping against her fingertips.

And then something yanked her sharply into another direction.

A sudden gust of wind hit her hard enough to blow her hair away from her face. So great was the pressure that her breath struggled vainly at the back of her throat.

Then she was falling . . .

Robin cracked an eye open, surprised to find herself in the middle of a field. Now that she could breathe again, she could appreciate how deep and vivid the greens of the grass, the bright yellow of buttercups, and the blue of the sky were compared to those back home.

She turned to say as much to 'Marth,' only to find that the other girl was nowhere to be found. In her place . . .

"Frederick." Robin staggered back a step, feeling the heat of his glower darken. She waved the bubbles away from her face, desperately trying to remember if she'd done anything to irritate him lately.

"Robin. I see you've returned."

She clamped her lips down as a nervous laugh tickled the back of her throat. This was Frederick she was staring down, not some frightful creature big enough to swallow seven kingdoms and cantankerous enough to try.

Although, if she were given the choice . . .

"Indeed I have."

Why did he look as though her very presence offended him? And where had 'Marth' gone?

"Time is fleeting, so I will be blunt. What are your intentions toward Milord?"

A flurry of bubbles swished from her lips as she sighed. Not this again. Anything she could say in her defense would only be met with suspicion.

Robin crossed her arms. "What do you think my intentions are?"

Impossibly, his glare deepened. "I—"

"Robin."

Despite feeling like a hedgehog with golden quills, something in Robin's heart fluttered when she heard his voice. That, paired with the welcome on his lips, and she almost forgot that it wasn't Chrom rushing toward her.

"C-Chrom." She looked in vain for 'Marth.'

Or attempted too. By then, not-Chrom had swept her into a bone crushing embrace, and all she could see was the face-full of white that was making it hard to breathe.

"Milord."

"Bubbles?"

Robin huffed a sigh and extricated herself from both man and cloak.

"See, Blue? I told you the name was fitting."

The thief they'd talked into helping them grinned as he popped some kind of sweet into his mouth. His smirk was the final straw.

"Why is he here again?" Robin asked, doing her best to ignore both the bubbles streaming out of her mouth and their reaction to it. Even Frederick looked more than a little nonplussed.

"Blue sweetened the deal to the point that I couldn't refuse." He grinned at her. "Bubbles."

Chrom intercepted Robin before she could introduce the thief to the business end of her tome. "Gaius and Panne both joined the Shepherds, don't you remember?"

Robin stopped glaring long enough to rub the spot between her eyes where the headache was doing its level best to bore a hole through her skull.

They had met with Emmeryn after they'd driven the enemy out beyond the castle walls. What was left of them, anyway. Turned out the Plegian vanguard had severely underestimated the might of Ylisseans fighting to protect their Exalt.

Her gaze fell on the butterfly pendant she didn't remember fastening around her neck. "I might have been a little . . . distracted while we debriefed your sister."

"Ah." With not-Chrom flushing a bright red, an awkward silence settled over them. And from the way he rubbed the back of his neck, everyone else assumed he'd had something to do with it.

Robin's headache intensified, and she sent a useless thought toward home. Her quiet alcove in the library to be precise. No people. No noise. Just quiet bliss and the wisdom of the ages surrounding her.

"Er, Bubbles . . ." Gaius's eyes were the size of the lollipop he'd stuffed into his left cheek. He traced a line down from his temple. "You do that often?"

"What?" Her voice wasn't quite a growl.

Not-Chrom frowned as he reached toward her forehead. His fingers didn't quite brush against the spot, but hovered next to her face.

"You'd think they would notice." He hid his frustration as well as Chrom ever hid anything, which was to say, not at all.

Robin appreciated his effort anyhow.

"There's nothing for them to notice." Robin stepped back, reminding herself that no matter how much it seemed otherwise, not-Chrom was, well, not Chrom. "I'm just me."

"Precisely." Frederick was giving her that look again. The one that half expected her to turn on them at any given moment.

Why? Why was this Frederick still eyeing her with suspicion?

She dropped her gaze and rubbed her head. If it wasn't for this infernal headache, she'd—

"Seriously?" Lissa arrived in a flurry of golden butterflies. The princess marched toward Robin with a look in her eye that made Robin forget about all the minor annoyances so she could start drawing up an escape plan. "You're all just standing around while she's cracked and leaking essence?"

"So, not normal," Gaius confirmed.

"What about that," Lissa waved her arm toward Robin, narrowly avoiding smacking her brother in the process, "looks normal?"

"My apologies, Milady." Frederick executed a curt bow. And although he was still eyeing Robin, he no longer looked quite so piqued.

Progress then.

Speaking of . . .

"I don't suppose you'd be able to fix . . . this?" She gestured to the golden magic-gone-wrong impaling her upper body.

"Were you wounded?" not-Chrom asked. He took half a step toward her before resting his hand on Falchion.

"No?" Robin grimaced. The rods of light didn't seem to be in the process of killing her. Aside from the initial pain, she could almost forget they were even there.

Mostly.

"Hold still," Lissa ordered as she leaned in close to check Robin's pupils.

The emerald-colored light washed over her, warming her, even before Lissa had begun the healing in earnest. Robin sighed contentedly. Already her headache was lifting away, and she could almost hear herself think once again.

Why did she avoid visiting the healers again?

"Frederick, I need you to go get Sumia," Lissa said as she finished her initial assessment. "This'll be good practice for her. And you, sit." She pressed her hand firmly on Robin's shoulder before exerting enough downward pressure that Robin had little choice in the matter.

Robin glared up at her and rubbed her sore tailbone. Right. That was why she only went to the healers as a last resort. Bossy, every one of them.

"She means well," Chrom murmured with a quiet chuckle. He sat down beside her, close enough that she was very much aware of his presence, but far enough that he could lean back on his hands and just look at her.

Robin shook her head as her cheeks warmed with her blush. No, not Chrom. Not-Chrom. It didn't help matters any that they both had that warmth and . . . not softness exactly, but something like it, whenever they looked at her.

"Well, if that's all, I'll be—"

"Hold it right there." Lissa opened a small bag tied to her belt and began rummaging through it. "I need you to go get Miriel. She should have made some progress on the anti-elixir"

Gaius sighed as he unwrapped another sweet. "You know I only understand one word in five of anything Specs says, right? I'd be happy to go get Stumbles though."

"No need," Frederick said, finally glaring at someone else for a change. "I'm already on my way."

"Guess I'll get going then." Gaius mumbled something about needing to refill his stash before he gave them a cheeky salute. "Bubbles. Blue. Princess."

"I really don't—" Not-Chrom shook his head and let the matter drop.

"How many times have I told you that I'm not Princess. I mean, I guess I am, but that's not my name!"

Robin kept quiet, as saying anything would only encourage him. Except . . .

She turned to not-Chrom. "You haven't seen 'Marth' have you? We arrived here together, but were separated."

She rubbed the spot above her heart without thinking. While she didn't doubt 'Marth's' capabilities—especially given her connections to Chrom in the future, Robin didn't like the idea of her being lost or tangled with any of the thousands of roads that had stretched out before them.

"I'm sorry, but I haven't." Not-Chrom sat up. "Where were you when you got separated?"

"On our way here, actually." Robin frowned. She still wasn't certain exactly how the roads she'd seen worked, nor how her own way of traveling played into that. Did everyone else travel by butterfly? Somehow, she couldn't picture not-Chrom using butterflies to get from place to place.

"If you'd like, I could ask the others to help me look for her. It would be good practice, except . . ."

"Wait. Where are you going?" Lissa asked, hands on her hips. "I need you here, Chrom."

Robin winced as Lissa slapped something cool, but sticky, onto her forehead with a little more force than absolutely necessary.

"Robin and Marth were separated on their way here." Chrom gave her a look she couldn't quite decipher.

"Oh." Lissa sighed. "Yeah, I suppose you should go find her. But hurry back, all right?"

"It's good to know you'll miss me, Liss." Chrom grinned and mussed her hair with an affectionate pat.

Robin hugged her knees as she watched them. What would it be like to have a sibling? Of course, for all she knew, she might have a hundred of them, but a quiet corner of her heart was certain she was alone.

That she'd always been alone.

Until now.

She rubbed at her heart again as something tugged uncomfortably at it. Startled to feel the cool metal chain of her pendant instead of her tunic, she looked down to find the butterfly fanning its wings.

The wings still glittered in what passed for sunlight in this Realm, but they were no longer gems . . .

As if sensing that it had her attention, her butterfly pendant flapped its wings in earnest as if to pull her to where it wanted her to go. Then, when she made no move to follow, it redoubled its efforts.

Robin fell onto her knees as she braced her hands and feet on the ground against the pull of the pendant. She was frozen for a moment, the words she'd been about to speak already forgotten.

As the world was swallowed up in a pair of shimmering wings, she could no longer remember why she was resisting the butterfly's call. It had come especially for her.

She opened her mouth, but there were no words waiting to be spoken. Just a purple so dark it might have been black. All edged in gold.

Then the butterfly stilled its wings, and six scarlet eyes slowly opened.

One.

By.

One . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha! So, the story took an unplanned detour. >.< I have an idea of where this detour is heading, and while I'm not 100% certain, there's a good chance that these two worlds could collide a lot sooner than I'd been anticipating. :D And for those keeping score at home, there's going to be a total of four Robins and four Chroms. I'm really looking forward to what's coming-especially in meeting a new Robin. (Next chapter, on my honor. 0:))
> 
> Now that Marth has made it to Robin's to-do list, all those half quotes around 'Marth's' names come directly from Robin's mind. This is the first time one of my characters has done this, so we had a bit of a tussle when I was typing. As you can see, Robin won. :p
> 
> Thanks to all of you who stop by/read/comment/share! You guys are awesome, and I'm lucky to have you. :D Have a great week!


	37. Chapter Thirty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

They'd lost her mother.

Somehow Robin had found her own way to them.

And then her mother had vanished between one breath and the next.

_Gone._

_She was gone._

Lucina stared at this Realm's Aunt Lissa and Chrom, doing her best to digest what they were telling her. The words, she understood.

Individually.

But string them all together, and they turned topsy turvy. Snow in the summer. Custard on bear meat. Fire raining down from the sky.

"There are no clues? Nothing to indicate how or where she went?"

Aunt Lissa sniffled into her handkerchief and shook her head. Chrom's glower and his stranglehold on Falchion reminded her of one of the few times she had ever witnessed her father being afraid. He had paced then as he did now. A caged dragon, but with no enemy in sight.

Sir Frederick cleared his throat, his expression stiff, even for him. "I am afraid that I am likely to blame. When Robin appeared, I—"

"Oh, stop it, Frederick!" Aunt Lissa cried. Her eyes were puffy and her complexion splotchy. And that had been before she'd burst into tears shortly after Lucina had arrived. "It's my fault, and we all know it! If I hadn't talked Miriel into casting that _ties that bind spell,_ none of this would have happened!"

Lucina cast about desperately for anything that made even a modicum of sense. "Ties that bind spell?"

Aunt Lissa's eyes went wide and she slapped her hands, too late, over her mouth.

"An enchantment to make her true home feel more welcoming," Chrom supplied with a worried look in his sister's direction.

"Her true home?" Lucina looked carefully at each of them in turn. "From all I have witnessed, she is quite happy as things are."

Gaius strolled over, whistling long and low. "Did someone die or something? Because all of you look like—"

"Nonsense," Magister Miriel murmured. She polished the lenses of her spectacles with the edge of her sleeve. "While downcast, all of the research I have done up until now would indicate concern or anxiety rather than grief. It is quite common, depending on the temperament, of course, for some to exhibit atypical reactions due to the presence of internal or external stressors. Why if—"

Gaius liberated half a pie from a pouch tied to his belt. "You know, Specs, talking in the common tongue is a lot easier than you'd think."

"We were just explaining that Robin has gone missing," Lady Sumia said. Her hands were clenched around a tangle of stems, their petals resting delicately at her feet.

_Missing._

_Her mother wasn't gone. She was just . . . missing._

"Bubbles is missing?" Gaius asked, dusting the pie crumbs off his hands. "She wander off or something?"

"I think something went wrong with the spell," Aunt Lissa told Magister Miriel. She swiped her sleeve across her eyes.

Magister Miriel pursed her lips as she pulled a sheaf of papers out of her sleeve. "While there are any number of possible ways that particular spell may have been misapplied, I am quite certain that it would not have misfired in that manner."

"What?" Aunt Lissa had her hand on her hips.

Gaius pulled an apple out of one pocket and a small jar of honey out of another. "Lots could have gone wrong, but not that kind of wrong."

"So Robin's probably all right, then?"

Lucina narrowed her eyes. Lady Sumia was like a second mother to her, which meant Lucina knew every shade and tone of her voice nearly as well as she knew her mother's.

There was something they weren't telling her.

"Yeah, but how do you explain her just going poof?" Aunt Lissa set her jaw so it only wobbled a little.

_Poof?_

_Her mother had_ —

"I need to talk to my father," Lucina muttered to herself as she tried to still the panic racing through her thoughts. This was not going to be a pleasant talk, but finding her mother took first priority.

And if there was one thing her father would move heaven and earth for, it was her mother.

"Didn't you say that would be a very bad thing to do?" Aunt Lissa asked. She'd stuffed her handkerchief somewhere and grabbed Lucina by the arm. She hadn't glanced at the Chrom of this realm, but it was easy to see what she was thinking.

"Ordinarily, yes," Lucina sighed. "But with Robin missing, he will be our surest way of finding her." She stopped just short of saying the thought that pierced her heart. They would find her mother, and her mother would be there to be found.

All would be well.

There was no other option.

"Do you know where he is?" Chrom asked, the worry line between his eyes easing away.

Lucina shifted slightly. "It will be a simple thing to locate him, yes."

"Good." He visibly straightened as though a crushing weight had been lifted. "Then will you take us to him? The sooner we can find Robin, the better."

His eyes burned with determination.

Determination and something else . . .

Lucina's eyes widened as an unpleasant thought wormed its way into her consciousness. It was impossible that she hadn't seen it before. That she hadn't even thought to consider exactly how similar her father and his counterpart would be.

"Milord, perhaps we should find out a few more details before we rush in."

_And why she had no memory of him now._

Chrom shook his head. "Robin vanished on our watch. It is only fitting that we bring her back."

Lucina grimaced. She could already hear the dragon-sized lecture she was going to receive if she ever gathered enough courage to visit the Lady Tiki again.

Fortunately she had two and a half wars to ameliorate, two very important assassinations to prevent, and a world to save in the meantime.

Right. Now to—

"Er, you are going to take us with you, aren't you?"

"Don't be silly, Chrom." Aunt Lissa gave her a look brimful of meaning. "Of course we're coming."

"You might want to wait for a couple of your chicks to hatch first, Princess."

Aunt Lissa turned, hand on hips, her staff glowing dimly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Gaius shrugged as he pulled out another sweet. "From the sound of things, Bubbles just went poof."

"And?" Chrom frowned.

"And . . . Did it occur to anyone that maybe Bubbles left on her own?"

Lady Sumia stepped forward before Lucina could. "Robin would never leave. Not like that."

Gaius held up his hands in surrender. "You have to admit she wasn't in the best frame of mind. I mean, she _was_ leaking essence."

Beside her, Chrom's demeanor changed completely. The blood had drained from his face, and that look in his eye was back. The trapped frustration of being completely powerless against forces greater than himself.

It was a feeling Lucina understood well.

He glanced at his sister. "How long does she have?"

"I mended most of her." Aunt Lissa tapped the stone on her staff absently as she worked out her calculations in her head. "But this is Robin we're talking about . . ."

Lucina shifted her weight from foot to foot, her arm aching to release Falchion from her sheath and aim her at simple, uncomplicated problems.

Like a horde of Risen.

She wanted to tell them that where she was going, they couldn't follow.

She should tell them.

Right now.

But the more she watched them, the more she listened to the murmured conversations—from Lady Sumia fretting over whether or not she had enough flowers to Magister Miriel working out some way of tracing Robin's essence that nobody really understood—the more she recognized the heroes from the stories they used to tell to keep despair at bay.

And in them she glimpsed the feeling of family that had once encircled them all in what she'd thought was a protective boundary. A fairy tale where true love conquered all and everyone had a happily ever after.

Nothing could touch them. No evil dragon prevail.

Until they vanished one by one, finding their end not between the pages of a story, but along the cold and cruel length of the battlefield.

Lucina startled when something soft and floral brushed against her cheeks. She raised a hand and felt the cool tracks of tears she hadn't remembered crying.

"You're very close to her, aren't you?" Lady Sumia dabbed Lucina's face with her handkerchief a few more times.

She nodded, at a loss for words.

"We're going to find her. You can take heart in that." Lady Sumia nodded over at Chrom who was locked in an animated debate between Aunt Lissa and Sir Frederick. "The Captain would give his all even if she was just a normal Shepherd. But Robin isn't a normal Shepherd, not to him."

Lucina blinked back a few more tears as she started to understand some of the changes that had been wrought as consequence of her mission.

She, her mother, and—and Morgan had often visited the Mirror Realm. But it had always been empty fields, ancient forests, or crowded marketplaces in far away lands. Never once had they taken any path that would lead them to anyone they knew in the outside realm.

Lucina, being fairly young, had never thought to wonder why.

Lady Sumia's expression softened, and she pressed her handkerchief into Lucina's hand.

"The Captain will search every path, every nexus between this realm and yours. And the Shepherds will be right there to help out. We will find her, Marth. No matter what."

Lucina nodded weakly. As much as she needed to find her mother, that was exactly what she was afraid of.

* * *

All time stood frozen as Robin stumbled after the jeweled butterfly. Crimson and plum, ebony and gold, had blinded her to all else that existed.

She was simply a pair of legs created to follow those glittering wings wherever they might lead her.

A foggy part of her consciousness noted that they'd left behind all roads and pathways long ago. Or it might have been only a moment ago. Whatever the case, there was nothing to illuminate whatever feral landscape she trekked through. All was shadow and darkness and determined night.

As soon as the thought had come to her, her step wavered just enough to keep her from plowing directly into something waist high that felt like stone.

The butterfly was its own illumination, and Robin watched with rapt attention as it landed on the stone and slowly fanned its wings.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

The markings that looked like crimson eyes closed with each progressive flap of its wings until each set slumbered. Only then did her mind start to filter back as it awakened.

Finding herself alone in a near complete darkness, Robin shivered as her heart started to pound. The darkness wasn't simply the lack of light. She could almost hear the whisper of her fear urging her to flee to a place where shadows could not follow.

She froze in place, unable to retreat, for not even the tiniest indication of a pathway was visible from where she stood. The butterfly was the single point of light for what amounted to her entire world at present.

The butterfly, once it was certain of her attention, fluttered its wings before vanishing into a paper-thin wedge of light where a crack ran through the stone.

Blind panic forced her to leap after the butterfly before even half a thought had had time to form.

Robin caught the slender strand of light bleeding through the fissure. The moment her fingers brushed against it, it pulled her in.

She landed with a solid thump in what appeared to be the entrance of an ancient garden. The granite benches and fountain had been dulled by time, and spider-like networks of cracks had free reign. A fence made of iron peered out from the ivy creeping over it. Patches were burnished with rust, and it ran around the entire perimeter of the garden.

But although the things in the garden had brittled and broken over time, the plants themselves were well cared for, and they grew in a profusion of brilliant colors.

Robin walked along a thin path made of stone with the occasional gem inlaid at odd intervals where they twinkled as she passed them. Although she could not identify the source of light in this Realm, the light had more orange and red in it and the sky held all the colors of the sunset.

Where was she? Was it a safe place or a trap for the unwary? Could she leave if she wanted to? And why had she followed that infernal butterfly in the first place?

As if sensing her thoughts, the selfsame butterfly fluttered into view.

"Why have you brought me here?" she asked, crossing her arms and ignoring the stream of bubbles trailing from her lips.

The butterfly zigzagged in place before fluttering a few yards ahead of her. It rested on the petals of a plump red rose, fanning its wings as it waited.

Robin narrowed her eyes. It hadn't escaped her notice that the butterfly was leading her further along the path, All paths led somewhere. The question was if she trusted the butterfly enough to follow it into uncertainty.

It bothered her that she, herself, was uncertain.

A quick glance over her shoulder assured Robin that if the butterfly was leading her toward certain doom, well, it would be simple enough to run back the way she had come.

Right, then.

Taking a deep breath, she walked down the path toward the butterfly. Once she was about three strides away, the butterfly flew a short distance—this time landing on a flower with pale blue petals.

They continued along the path that spiraled gently inward. With each step, the darkness outside of the garden seemed to press in on her, making it harder to breathe.

Not-Chrom. Lissa. "Marth." They must be frantic by now.

Or were they?

Robin frowned as she struggled to remember how, exactly, she got from there to here. Had she told them she was going? Had they said goodbye?

She put a hand to her head. Her headache, thankfully, had almost completely gone. Did that mean Lissa had patched her up? It had to . . . Didn't it?

Why couldn't she remember?

Had something happened to make her forget?

And, a persistent little fear beat in time with her heart, was it possible that she would forget again?

Robin stopped walking as a kind of pain lanced through her heart, turned her lungs to iron. The idea of forgetting Chrom, the Shepherds, every bit and piece of the life she was living now . . .

Cold horror drew her in, and she nearly drowned in it.

She couldn't forget.

Not again.

Never again.

Death would be a kinder fate than perpetually—

The butterfly landed on her nose, drawing her back to the garden. Robin took a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She was fine now. Truly. While she couldn't recall the particulars, she still retained the important things.

Like the way Chrom's eyes always held a hint of laughter. The mischievous gleam in Lissa's eyes when she'd decided to frog someone. The streak of daring that lit up Sumia's face when she was riding that demon spawn of hers.

"Books. I like books. And stories."

As she curved with the path, Robin stopped short when she realized she'd reached the heart of the garden.

The butterfly brushed past her cheek, urging her to complete the journey.

Was this a trap? An elaborate ruse?

But who would have set it? And why?

Strangely enough, she found courage in the questions—enough to examine the stone slab in the center of the small clearing that was piled high with flowers.

Every one of them a rose so deeply red as to remind her of heart's blood.

The memory of the other Chrom, the one more shadow than substance, nearly stopped her in her tracks. He had been dead for a very long time, and bore the air that all the Risen shared. He had come to her then, when they were desperately fighting to prevent the Exalt's assassination, but he hadn't hurt her.

Robin glanced at the mound of roses once more, uneasy. They were the exact shade of his eyes, and she could almost swear each rose was looking at her. Watching. Waiting.

But for what?

It wasn't until she'd made her way to the other side that she saw what the butterfly had been trying to show her.

She reached out, her hand trembling, to brush a few stray petals from the cheek of someone who looked exactly like her.

The woman was nearly insubstantial, and a deep coldness radiated from her being. Her eyes were closed and deeply shadowed, and her skin was so pale she might have been dead, were it not for the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

Caught between pity, wonder, and horror, Robin tapped her shoulder. Was it possible that she was only sleeping? What would Robin do if she really did wake up?

Who slept on a slab of stone and a bed of roses? And why did she have her face?

Just as Robin leaned closer, all the shadows hiding in the roses rose up as one. She put up her arms to protect her face as they streamed past her, their wings a brittle rasp against the air that would haunt the edges of her dreams for a long time to come.

They all swirled to a point a few feet away from her, each one growing less distinct as they melded one to another. In no time at all, they had formed an oval made of such complete darkness that it seemed to leech color from everything that was close enough to touch it.

Robin leaned back even as it seemed to pull her toward it. She braced her hands against the stone slab, careful not to touch the sleeping woman by accident. She kept her gaze trained on the spot, waiting for her deepest fears to emerge. It was just one of those days.

Instead, the Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom appeared as though the shadows made by the butterflies were a kind of dark looking glass. A framed painting that hung, impossibly, against the cool night air and the sunset. He watched for a long moment, his upper half suspended in the darkness, a wry tilt to his head.

When it became apparent that he wasn't going to appear any further than he already had, Robin let out a breath she'd been holding and loosened her hold on the stone.

"You have the key." The Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom's voice was husky and a little deeper than it ought to have been.

"Th-the key?"

His lips quirked into a smile as the bubbles left her lips. He nodded, and she raised a hand to her chest. Instead of her tunic, her fingers found the cool metal of the butterfly pendant she didn't remember fastening around her neck. She moved to slip the chain over her head, but stopped at the pained expression that flitted across his face.

Frowning, she glanced down at the pendant to find that it looked exactly like the butterfly that had led her here. As if sensing her thoughts, the pendant warmed for a moment, just long enough for it to flap its wings—

"Ah!" she cried, dropping it. She watched with wide eyes as it stilled and fell against her, right above her heart.

"Will not hurt you. Keep . . . safe." The Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom's expression became strained, and his voice seemed to come from a great distance.

The shadowy backdrop seemed to pulse, and with each pulse, it grew a little smaller.

Robin wasn't sure what to make of that—of any of this, to be honest. She shouldn't be here. That knowledge sank like diamonds deep inside her bones.

Hard.

Cold.

Dazzling bright.

The darkness shuddered, and for one horrible moment, it looked close to shattering.

The Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom grunted as the edges of the shadows frayed away. And when he looked at her, Robin found she couldn't bear to look away.

"Save her." He nodded to the woman behind her just as a great crack ran across whatever shadow portal it was he'd opened.

The air grew heavy for one breath, two. Then the dark looking glass really did shatter into a thousand ink-dark wings that fell to the ground, little more than ragged scraps of shadow.

Heart hammering in her chest, Robin turned to look at the woman. Anything to distract herself from the gaping hole of loss burning her heart to cinders.

"Who are you?" she asked, grateful that the woman didn't answer.

She looked down at the path winding away from where she stood. She should be going. She knew she should. The others would be—might be worried. But she couldn't leave now. Not until she was certain she would be able to find her way back.

Holding the pendant in one hand, and resting her other near the sleeping woman, Robin started building the beginnings of a plan.

* * *

_Back in the Real World . . ._

* * *

"What do you mean, she's missing?" Chrom demanded, the words struck like ice to his heart. He'd waited half the morning in this courtyard, but nothing turned out as he'd planned. Robin was nowhere to be seen, and he could have sworn that the paperwork Frederick had given him to help him pass the time was doubling whenever he turned away from it.

Marth hunched her shoulders, not quite meeting his eyes. "We became separated suddenly, and by the time I caught up to where she had gone, she had disappeared."

The misery in Marth's expression was second only to his own.

"Do you have any idea where she might have gone?"

Marth shook her head.

Chrom clamped down on the panic rising in his chest. Fear had its place, but now was the time to act. Robin and Frederick could kill him later once she was safely back home.

"You've always come for Robin," he said. "I don't suppose I—"

Marth shook her head. "The Realm requires certain . . . traits."

"What kind of traits?" He narrowed his eyes. There was something about Marth that, while not off, he felt he was missing.

Marth frowned as she seemed to be weighing whatever it was she wanted to say. "There is more than one world out there, and more than one path. Some . . . pathways can only be found by those who are native to those pathways."

"So you're saying Robin isn't from here?" Chrom spoke with a far more measured tone than he felt. He got to his feet, his hand resting on Falchion. If going in search of Robin was impossible, well, he and Falchion would have to do the impossible. Failure was not an option.

Marth hunched up a little more. "We didn't know for certain, before. Only that she had a connection to the other world. I—certain knowledge has come to light that would indicate she is indeed from that world."

"Take me to where you saw her last." Falchion warmed against his hand, reassuring him that she was with him one hundred percent.

"But I—you can't possibly—I'm sorry, but that is out of the question."

For a moment, Marth had been startled into meeting his gaze. In that moment, pieces started falling into place.

"You have the brand of the Exalt in your eye." The words were like a punch to the gut. How could he not have noticed before?

Too late, Marth ducked her head away.

"And you come from the future." Chrom frowned. There was something that still eluded him. "How far in the future?"

"I'm sorry. I can't—"

He grabbed her arm just as she was about to slip away. "You're going to have to if it means the difference between finding Robin or not."

She, too, bore Falchion.

She had the mark.

And Robin's chin and long, delicate fingers.

For a brief instant, the memory of what he'd seen in Regna Ferox burned brightly before his eyes. A small child with his coloring, laughing and tugging at his hand.

There was also the fact that she could travel between worlds, just like Robin.

Marth grimaced a little when she peeked up at him, and paled as he came to a sudden realization.

"You're ours, aren't you?" Chrom didn't know if it was the wonder, the shock, or Falchion zinging against his palm, but the ground suddenly felt unsteady beneath his feet.

A father.

He was a father. Or would be.

But how? And when?

"Please," Marth whispered, her voice little more than ashes. "I have already affected this timeline more than is wise. In this thing, at least, it is vital that it happens in its own time and in its own way."

"Does Robin know?"

Marth shook her head. "She suspects, but she vanished before she could press hard enough to be sure."

His determination had been absolute before, but somehow, standing beside his daughter— _their daughter_ —the earth would crumble away to nothing before he accepted that he had to be left behind to wait and worry.

Frederick would be doing more than enough of the latter for the both of them.

"Well, you heard her. We need your help." Despite the gravity of the situation, Chrom smiled when Marth glanced at Falchion. It was reassuring to know that Falchion had worked to keep his family safe.

Even if one considered that Marth was hardly older than he was now, and yet she bore Falchion with a kind of confidence that could only be gained through long familiarity.

"I'm sorry," he murmured just as Falchion grew hot enough to score the impression of her hilt on his palm.

"Do you truly seek to go beyond your own bounds?" Falchion's voice rang through his mind, clearing it of any other thought.

"Yes," Chrom said without hesitation. There were no bounds where Robin's safety was concerned, so it shouldn't be difficult to go beyond them.

"Do you trust me?" Falchion asked. "And do you trust her?"

He glanced down at Marth who was goggling at him like one of his sister's frogs.

"Of course."

"Good." Falchion flowed out of the sword just enough to form a ghostly impression of herself beside them. "Because while I may bend the laws of the physical world occasionally, some laws are strictly immutable."

Chrom raised a brow. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that you're going to have to keep an open mind. If you charge in as you are wont to do, the Halidom will be mourning their prince."

He frowned. There was something about the way Falchion inflected her voice that was setting off all kinds of warning bells.

"How so?"

"Lend me your strength, and I'll lend you my eyes." She watched him, a smile coiled tightly in the corner of her mouth. It was the same look Frederick used to give him when he'd ask if he could spar with him.

"Robin's safe return is paramount." He had nothing with which to bargain, so he put forth the one thing he would not negotiate.

Falchion narrowed her eyes before she gave him a sharp nod. "We will not be able to maintain this bond for very long, which will put time in your favor. I will do all that I can not to weaken you any more than I have to."

"What do you mean to do?" Marth demanded, falling into a light and ready stance. She rested one hand upon her Falchion's hilt, but had not yet drawn her sword.

"I mean to assist you." Without moving much at all, every single line and shade of her turned sharp and deadly. "I have tasted Robin's heart. It will not be difficult to locate her."

Chrom relaxed some of the tension that had built up in his muscles. It would be nice to have a problem solved so quickly and easily for a change. Would that relations with Plegia could follow suit.

"You can do that? Locate people no matter the realm?" Marth paled.

Falchion smiled as she always did before she bit into her enemies. "Provided the prerequisites have been met, yes. It is a simple thing to do—provided the person survives. Extraction, on the other hand, is where you will come in."

"Me?"

Chrom put a hand on Marth's shoulder. "I believe in you."

For some reason, rather than giving her comfort, Marth looked like she was on the verge of tears. Then, before he could figure out where he'd gone wrong, she threw her arms around him and did her best to mute her tears into his shoulder.

He slowly returned the embrace, marveling at how it felt both alien and familiar all at once. He hoped the future him had been a good father—other than passing Falchion on to Marth far too soon. Regardless, the determination of his purpose only deepened at thoughts of the future.

"Your name," he said once her sobs had receded and her breathing stilled, "it isn't Marth, is it?"

Red-eyed, but beaming, she stepped back and shook her head. "Mother always told us it was your first choice, even after I was born."

Chrom nodded. It was an easy thing to picture, and a conversation with Robin he was strangely looking forward to—

Wait.

"Us?"

She nodded, her expression turning grave.

Chrom's whole being went fairly light as he imagined a castle full of children with Robin's chin and boundless curiosity. He could see them now, tracking in mud from the practice yard on their way to find their mother.

They were going to need a bigger library.

"The sooner we go for Robin, the sooner we return," Falchion said, but for once she didn't look nearly as smug and superior as she often did. If Chrom didn't know better, he would think she'd softened around the edges a little.

As if reading his thoughts, she gave him a sour look.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Sit over here," Falchion said, gesturing to the stone bench a few paces away. "On second thought, you might want to lie down. The binding is taxing enough without you having a concussion on top of it."

"So . . . you want me to just stay here for now?" The stone bench was just as comfortable as he thought it would be, which wasn't very.

"You'll thank me later."

Chrom had only a moment to wonder at her meaning. In between this breath and the next, Falchion jabbed him in the chest with a surprisingly sharp finger. He shivered as the strength drained out of him, glad that he hadn't been standing. In a matter of moments, his stomach started to rebel until he'd grown too weak for even that.

"Stop! You're killing him!" Marth's voice sounded like it came from very far away.

Falchion snorted. "Hardly. He carries more strength than even he understands, and it should be just enough to carry us through. Are you ready?"

"He'll be all right?"

"He'll live, which is more than I can say for some if we don't get going."

"Very well."

Despite feeling like he'd just completed two circuits of Frederick's Fanatical Fitness Hour back to back, Chrom stretched out a hand toward Marth. He didn't like that she should have to carry so many burdens, not when he was there to share the weight of the load.

"Marth . . ."

She bent down and rested her hand on top of his. "Rest well, Father. We'll find Mother and bring her back home."

He wanted to tell her that he should be the one going. That he was sorry for the position she'd been put in by his older self. To reassure her that he would do better. Be better. That he would ensure she would never be left alone again.

But all that came out on the back of his sigh was the name that wasn't even really hers.

She stood and his hand went cold as she lifted hers away.

"Stay awake," Falchion ordered, jostling his shoulder just enough to disturb the sleepiness that had been creeping stealthily into his consciousness. "It will do none of us any good if you fall asleep."

He tried again. "Marth . . ."

"Ready?" Falchion asked Marth.

The girl nodded, and then glanced at him. She bit her bottom lip as Falchion summoned some kind of portal.

She bent toward him, squeezed his hand, and whispered in his ear, "Lucina. My name is Lucina."

Then they were gone, and Chrom was left to stare up at the clouds. Though his body felt heavy enough to be stone, his heart was strangely light.

Lucina was a good name, and one that fit her perfectly. They'd get to Marth eventually.

Before Chrom could fall too far into his daydream, the world darkened for a moment. When he could finally see again, it wasn't fluffy clouds in an Ylissean sky that he saw, but a dreamscape of worlds tied together by thousands of sparkling strings.

His mind swam as it tried to make sense of the beautiful, impossible scene before him. But even as his mind quailed beneath the enormity of it all, his attention narrowed to a series of golden threads that led to something tucked in between the folds of two worlds.

Robin was there, of that he was certain.

Now it was time to bring her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoosh. The question of who the Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom asked Robin to protect will soon be forthcoming. Even as a Risen, he's still Chrom deep at heart. There are some things that even death cannot change.
> 
> I hadn't expected Lucina to meet Chrom like this quite so soon, but it was time. I also hadn't expected him-once he got over the shock of it-to become so fascinated with the idea of having half a bajillion kids, but I guess as long as they have some of Robin within them, he's good. And I could totally see him trying to convince Robin that at least one of them should be named Marth. :p
> 
> Thanks again to all you wonderful readers for reading, commenting, sharing, and for stopping by to share in the story. You guys are awesome, and I truly appreciate the time you've put into the story up to this point. Thank you!
> 
> Have a great week! :D


	38. Chapter Thirty-Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.
> 
> Also: Back by popular demand--True Love's Kiss. Warning: This chapter contains a 200 gabijillion percent more kissing than the previous chapter. Proceed at your own risk. :p

"This time around won't be like the time before." Falchion gripped Lucina's arm a little tighter than necessary as they flew from Realm to Realm, never seeming to get any closer to the point Falchion had pointed out almost the moment they'd arrived.

The words were ice to Lucina's heart. "How do you mean?"

Falchion inclined her head toward her. With the binding, she'd left her vision back with Chrom. It did not escape Lucina's notice that the sword was more than a little annoyed at having to rely on the aid of a mere mortal.

Even if they were of the Exalted line.

"I have my memories of the future, hazy though they are." Falchion very pointedly did not look at the sword tied to Lucina's belt.

Lucina frowned. Her parallel Falchion had been rather silent as of late. Not that the blessed sword had ever been all that talkative to begin with. So much had been going on that she hadn't had time to—

"Don't bother," Falchion said as Lucina reached for the hilt. "I'm not _there_ yet, even though I've apparently already been."

"But—"

"All you've felt are the last vestiges of what will be. Unlike you, I cannot exist in whatever time catches my fancy."

"Why not?"

Was it her imagination or was the spot they'd been aiming for slightly closer than it had been?

"Naga stands outside of time, so, by necessity, do I." Falchion made a face. "It can be quite inconvenient at times."

Lucina shivered as they continued to pass from one realm to the next like a child hopping from one puddle to another. The shadows had deepened, and there were fewer pathways the farther they went. She'd never been able to travel this far at one time before, but she hardly felt the distance.

Was it because of Falchion's strength—and that due to her father's?

"He designed the lock better than I would have thought possible."

"He?"

Falchion glanced at her, which was more than a little disconcerting considering it was her father who would see her and not the sword.

"Your father."

"My father? But he—"

Falchion made a sound of exasperation. "Not the one we left, nor the one you knew. You might consider him your father who isn't. Not even death could seal him away completely."

"Not even . . ." Lucina went cold inside with dread. "My father died, shortly before the rest of the world succumbed to Grima."

"In many ways he did. However, there is one important way in which he did not." Falchion nodded toward the spot they'd been trying to get to.

Lucina shook her head. Falchion was trying to tell her something, of that she was certain. But what? And why was fear turning her brittle inside?

"If my father made the lock, then where is the key?"

Falchion canted her head to the side as she stared off into the distance. "Perhaps we've been going about this the wrong way."

Lucina froze, her shadowy butterflies scattering as they blended in with the dark void they'd been fluttering through.

"She's there." She put a hand to her heart. "I can feel it."

"Yes, but your father would have guarded against a direct assault." There might have been a note of grudging respect in Falchion's tone. "He was a fool to think he could shut me out as well."

Or perhaps not.

"Then what would you have us do?"

Despite being unable to see, Falchion plucked something seemingly out of thin air. The light shifted away from it, making it hard to identify whatever it was. Then Falchion jabbed Lucina's left temple, and she could just barely make out the glint of golden thread the sword was pinching delicately between a finger and thumb.

"There was a—" Lucina pressed a hand against her heart. "The other end is anchored in my mother's heart."

"Interesting." Falchion narrowed her eyes as she stared at the part of the thread she'd caught. "If I didn't know better, I'd say it was a particularly powerful enchantment. Written down because humans tend to be imbeciles for all their curiosity, but forbidden to work due to the . . . permanence of the magic against the impermanence of the human being."

The blood drained from Lucina's face. Those in the Mirror Realm had cast a spell of some sort, and from their reaction, it had likely been quite potent.

But that didn't mean it was the one Falchion was considering. For every enchantment forbidden due to—how had Laurent put it?—how powerful it was, there were a thousand more perfectly—and potently—good alternatives.

Falchion caught her by the wrist and carefully transferred the thread from her hand to Lucina's. "Lucky for us, you are the exception he likely never considered. Hold tight to this and let's go."

There was a certain light in Falchion's eyes that reminded Lucina that no matter how human Falchion looked, she was, after all, a sword.

A weapon.

A divine weapon, yes, and most definitely double-edged.

Closing her eyes, Lucina summoned the butterflies once more. They gathered around her, dark wings that rustled like old parchment and felt like velvet.

How they worked was a mystery that had taken her many years to figure out. Why they worked, well, that was a mystery even her mother hadn't worked out before—

"Marth?"

Lucina opened her eyes, hardly daring to believe.

Her mother stood to greet them, smiling, but guarded. Though she couldn't fault her mother, it still hurt a little. There were times when her mother had worn a particular expression that masked her true feelings when court became too tedious. But with her, her father, and Morgan, her mother had never hidden behind a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

And there was no trace of the shafts of light from before.

"You vanished." Lucina pressed her lips together. She had intended to simply state the fact of the matter, but the accusation in her tone hung in the air between them.

Her mother nodded. "So I did." She glanced at Falchion and took half a step back. Her mother gestured to her heart, specks of gold glinting between her movements. "I hope you don't intend to do anything. I've already been impaled more than my fair share of late."

"So you are." Falchion furrowed her brow.

The two regarded each other for a long moment, which seemed out of character for the sword until Lucina remembered that it was her father who was looking at her mother's face. It was not often that Falchion ever went out of her way to accommodate the mortals who carried her.

Lucina opened her mouth, then closed it as her heart nearly betrayed herself. She'd already told her father far more than she ought to have, so she would have to be careful here.

She waited until she was certain of herself before she tried again. "We've come to take you home."

Her mother frowned. "I have to make sure I can return here before I go."

Lucina pressed her lips together. Why wasn't her mother happier to see them? Why did she wish to delay her departure?

"I can only hold the bond between us a little while yet." Falchion spoke as she always did, but there seemed to be the overtones of bared teeth in her voice.

"What is so important about this place?" Lucina asked when it became apparent that her mother was going to be stubborn about this.

Her mother hesitated before she came to a conclusion. Then she waved them over. "There's something I want you to see."

* * *

Robin forced herself to take deep, measured breaths. She was not exactly fond of Falchion, and while she was certain that 'Marth' likely meant them no harm, there were far too many questions concerning her identity.

She knew the moment 'Marth' saw the sleeping woman. Even 'Marth' couldn't hide her gasp of surprise nor school her face into its usual impassive expression.

"Who is that?" 'Marth' demanded at the same time Falchion murmured, "Interesting."

"I'm afraid you know nearly as much as I do." Robin sighed and rubbed her head. She'd paced next to this spot as she'd mentally riddled her way through so many explanations that she might have paved all the streets in Ylisse with them, and she was no closer to understanding who the woman was or why the Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom had entrusted her into Robin's care.

"Why does she—" 'Marth' took a deep breath and softened her tone. "Why does she look like you?"

"If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn't have been stuck here." She waved a hand to encompass the garden. "Wherever here is."

"Nevertheless," Falchion's smile was sharp as ever, "we have come to fetch you home."

Robin put a hand to her head. "I don't think Lissa had time to mend me all the way." She frowned as she tried to think of a way to describe the dull whisper of her earlier headache that was still pounding at her temples with every beat of her heart.

"From what she said, Lissa was able to mend all but the most superficial cracks." 'Marth' narrowed her eyes as she studied her.

"Ah. I shall have to convey my thanks." Robin's gaze wandered back to the sleeping woman. What enchantment could cause such a profound sleep to come upon a person? Judging by the growth of the briars all around her, she'd been here for quite some time.

And who in their right mind made a bed of roses for a person without making sure to remove all the thorns? Whoever had done it was extremely lucky the woman hadn't been impaled yet.

The image of the Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom cut through her memories. His humanity had all but gone, devoured by worms and fell enchantments.

But the love shining in his eyes for the Robin-that-wasn't-her? It had almost revived some of those human traits that were thinner than spider silk and twice as fragile.

Robin grimaced. Whatever his origins and whatever his past, Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom most definitely didn't play fair. She couldn't leave the Robin-that-wasn't-her to be devoured by all those fancy rose briars.

More importantly, she couldn't betray the trust he'd placed in her—even if that trust had been entirely against her will.

Which he likely not only knew, but counted on.

Argh! Stupid dead things that didn't know when to just let go and pass on like proper ghosts!

"I'm afraid we don't have the luxury to wait much longer," Falchion said, a dangerous light in her eyes.

'Marth's' eyes widened, and the two exchanged a glance that told Robin something important was afoot.

"He'll be alright, won't he?"

Falchion shrugged. "Until the binding snaps."

"Right." 'Marth' set her jaw. "We should be going then."

Robin crossed her arms. "I told you. I can't leave until I'm certain I can return."

'Marth' opened her mouth to argue, but Falchion held up her hand.

"There's only one way to achieve your objective with the degree of certainty that you require."

Robin forced herself to ignore the shiver working its way up her spine. Sword or woman, Falchion was not to be underestimated for her ruthless efficiency.

"Which would be?" This was going to hurt, of course it was. The only silver lining was that Miriel's concoction seemed to be wearing off. The bubbles were nearly gone.

"No time to explain. The question is whether or not you trust me." Falchion held out a hand.

Robin wanted to say no. She wanted to run away until that dratted sword was sheathed and under control once more. But Chrom trusted Falchion with more than his life. And while it could be argued that his pathological ability to trust far beyond the bounds of common sense—

"Tick. Tock."

"All right. Provided your solution doesn't involve impaling me. Again."

Falchion didn't answer her. Instead, she plucked something out of the air that glinted with gold where it twisted against the light. All her edges went bright as she tugged on it.

Robin gasped as a sharp pain shot through her heart, remembering, too late, to keep her guard up. It was only when Falchion made a yanking motion that nearly dragged her away with it, that Robin remembered the shafts of light that had shot through her center not too long ago.

When had they disappeared?

"Nngh." She braced herself as best she could while the pain throbbed like a knife to the heart.

Exactly like a knife to the heart.

"That should hold." Falchion stepped back, her face pale and lined with exhaustion. "Now let us depart."

Robin hugged herself as the pain began to recede. Had she ever felt this cold before? She tugged at her cuffs and ignored how her hands shook.

"What did you just do?"

Falchion shrugged. "Nothing that a dozen or more haven't already done."

"Now see here—"

"We should go," 'Marth' said, her expression strained. "The longer we are away, the greater the danger to Chrom."

"Wait. How is this about Chrom?"

"Time's up."

Before Robin could do more than yelp in surprise, 'Marth' took hold of her on one side and Falchion the other.

Then the world fell away from her feet, and Robin could almost see twinkles of the golden thread that was unspooling between her and the Robin-that-wasn't-her.

"You're going to have to teach me the trick of this one day," Robin said as they leaped from one Realm to the next, guided and buffered by the shadow butterflies.

To her relief, the pain she expected to feel the moment the distance between herself and the Robin-that-wasn't-her grew too big never came. In its place was a profound coldness that Robin was certain would never be able to be warmed using conventional methods.

'Marth' hummed something without giving her a clear answer.

Robin meant to pursue her line of questioning, but flashes of color kept teasing her at the corners of her eyes. She fell silent, gazing at each wonder they passed with growing awe.

"How many Realms are there?" she breathed as they passed a realm that seemed to be mainly composed of turquoise fire and silver windscapes.

"A better question would be 'How can I learn to stay put in my own Realm?'" Falchion's teeth were bared, but most of the snap had gone out of her voice.

Robin had a retort lined up, but hesitated as she realized she wasn't entirely certain which Realm was hers. Was it the Realm she'd given her heart to or the one she had to return to periodically to be patched up?

"If you aren't going as fast as you can," Falchion said through her teeth, "I would advise you to reconsider."

'Marth' paled. "There are only a handful of Realms left to pass through." She pressed her lips together and urged her butterflies to flutter faster.

"I'm afraid that's half a handful too many."

Was it Robin's imagination or was Falchion beginning to fade along the edges?

If Falchion was in this shape, then Chrom—

The coldness in Robin's heart intensified.

"You need us to get back in half the time it should take?"

The strain on Falchion's face deepened as she gasped, "Yes!"

Robin frowned. "Can your butterflies change shape?"

'Marth' blinked at her, then turned her attention back to Realm hopping. "How do you mean?"

It was completely crazy, but no other options had presented themselves. She grinned at 'Marth.'

"Do you know how trebuchets work?"

"I—"

"Do it." Falchion clamped a hand down on 'Marth's' shoulder.

"You're going to have to overshoot the goal," Robin said, warming to the idea. Her headache had nearly gone by now, and she could hardly wait to stand on solid ground once more. "It will be you who is the engine, while we are the missile. The trick is figuring out when to let go . . ."

"I-I've never done anything like this before." Despite the uncertainty in her tone, 'Marth's' eyes were narrowed as she ran the scenario through her mind.

"Do you think you can reach the correct velocity?"

"It will be close." 'Marth' turned to look at her then, and it struck Robin once more at how very much there was of Chrom in her. "I cannot say what will happen if I fail or succeed, but it's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Just get us there." Beads of sweat ran down from Falchion's brow. "I will break us off when necessary."

"Right." Was it odd to feel so giddy when death was a highly potential outcome?

All three hunched together against the force of the air once 'Marth' had convinced the butterflies to fly faster. The rush of wind stung Robin's eyes, but she couldn't help grinning. Soon she'd be reunited with Chrom and all would be well once more.

"Come back when you can," she had to shout to be heard. It didn't matter if 'Marth' had nothing of her in her. If her heart was true, that's all that mattered. "I—we want to be sure you're all right."

'Marth' nodded, and then it was her arm Falchion was gripping hard enough that Robin could feel the sharp prickles of the blessed sword's nails.

"Don't you dare drop me," Falchion hissed in her ear.

That was all the warning Robin had before Falchion wrenched them both to the side, neatly slicing through the storm of their passage.

As they fell toward home and Falchion became less woman and more sword, Robin glanced over her shoulder. 'Marth' had nearly disappeared, and seemed more like a falling star than an impossible riddle Robin wasn't sure she wanted to solve.

There was just time enough to note a few dark butterflies trailing behind their mistress before Robin landed in an explosion of petals, juggling Falchion to avoid as many of her sharp edges as she could. It would be just her luck to end up impaling herself after everything else that had happened.

Robin rolled with her momentum, flying out of the flowerbed, and coming to a stop in a fragrant heap of bruised petals right where earth met stone.

She lay there, gasping for air and clutching Falchion, while she waited to be certain she'd survived the whole ordeal after all.

"Lady Robin, what a pleasant surprise."

Robin opened her eyes at the sound of the Exalt's voice, and immediately wished she could close them again.

The Exalt, along with most of the Shepherds, and more than a few members of court, were eyeing her with varying degrees of stupefaction.

"What is the meaning of this?" someone spluttered.

Lissa sauntered into view, grinning. "Hey there. That's one mystery solved." Her eyes widened a little when she noticed Falchion. "Make that two mysteries solved."

Robin meant to ask Lissa what was going on when the princess bent down to help her stand, only to be reminded that in this Realm, she couldn't speak.

There was still a faint ringing in her ears, but other than all the soreness from her impromptu landing, she was fine.

_What's going on?_ She smiled her thanks to Sumia when her friend passed her a concoction.

Lissa frowned, one hand on her hip. "A lot of silly people were convinced you somehow managed to overcome my brother so you could steal Falchion and run."

Robin blinked as she did her level best to assimilate the meaning of the words, but she'd left her stomach a few Realms back, and her vision hadn't quite returned to normal.

_What would I want with Falchion?_

"That's what we told them," Sumia said, giving her arm a reassuring pat.

Them?

Ah. Robin's gaze swept back to the group standing a few paces beyond the protective ring the Shepherds had formed around her.

Lowering her gaze demurely and balancing Falchion against her hip, Robin addressed the Exalt directly. _I didn't steal Falchion. In fact, she's the one who ran off with me_.

To the Exalt's credit, she didn't laugh—which was more than could be said about a few of the Shepherds.

"That'll be five crowns," Sully murmured as she smacked Vaike in the arm.

"No way," Vaike groaned, rotating his shoulder gingerly. "Teach knows swords better than you do."

Sully crossed her arms with a satisfied expression on her face. "Sure, normally. But this is Robin we're talking about, so pay up."

Robin sighed. It was good to be home.

"We are pleased that you are returned safely to us," the Exalt said. "Both of you."

Robin looked up with a start. Chrom should have been here to greet her. Where was he? Suddenly Lissa's words clicked into place.

_Where is Chrom? He's all right, isn't he?_

"The healers all believe Chrom to not be in any danger . . ." The Exalt trailed off as she looked away. Following her gaze, Robin was brought up short as a pair of familiar boots came into view.

She ignored the whispers and mutters as she lifted Falchion just enough not to drag her point against the ground before she hurried over to Chrom.

He lay, sleeping, on stone bench, a faint smile on his lips.

She flexed her fingers as she held herself back from brushing a lock of hair away from his face.

She turned to Lissa who hadn't left her side, and raised a brow.

Lissa shrugged, but couldn't quite conceal her worry. "He's fine. We just can't get him . . . to wake . . . up . . ."

Robin was immediately on guard at the fiendish expression on Lissa's face. She checked the younger girl over for frogs, and was far from reassured when she didn't find any.

"You know, Emm, I think Robin can be a big help here too."

Robin didn't miss the way Lissa's grin had landed with a twinkle in the Exalt's eye.

"How so?"

"Well, we've got the hero, the sword, and the sleeping maid, er—person." Lissa waved her hand excitedly as she spoke. "This fairy tale's practically writing itself. All it needs is a True Love's Kiss!"

"Your Grace, I really must protest—"

Lissa elbowed Robin in the side, mischief dancing in her eyes, and whispered, "You know what to do. We'll hold 'em back for you."

Heat flared in Robin's cheeks, and when she turned to the rest of the Shepherds for support, they all grinned at her or gave her all too knowing looks.

Vowing to have her revenge, Robin knelt down beside Chrom. Falchion, for once, was behaving herself, and didn't seem to mind when Robin set her gently on the ground.

She'd meant to lean forward, but couldn't force herself to move any further. How was she supposed to kiss anyone, let alone Chrom, in front of so many people? The Shepherds might have been gleeful over the whole thing—especially those who'd won their bets, but more than a few members of court were trying to set her ablaze through the sheer force of their glares.

"You, uh, do know how to kiss, right?" Lissa was studying her closely. "The other time wasn't a fluke, was it? I mean, I know Chrom was the one who—"

"Lissa."

The princess in question made a face at her older sister, but held her tongue.

"Robin?"

Face burning and heart pounding, Robin turned toward the sound of his voice. She had just enough time to note that he was awake before she got lost in a sea of blue.

He whispered her name again as he half sat up and pulled her into an embrace. Everything else that was left to say between them was buried in a kiss.

* * *

"Now _that's_ True Love's Kiss!"

Robin pulled back slightly at the sound of his sister's voice. Chrom opened his mouth to protest, but Robin didn't give him the opportunity.

She twisted out of his grasp, and before he could protest _that_ , he became aware that they weren't exactly alone.

"Emm." His ears and the back of his neck burned as his gaze swept over the knot of people surrounding them. Despite the embarrassment scorching his face, he couldn't quite regret following his heart.

His sister gave him a beatific smile. "It would seem, Lissa, that your theory bears merit."

Chrom wanted to ask what Emm meant, but from the amount of self-satisfied mischief radiating from Lissa, he decided he really didn't want to know after all.

"So we get to make it official?"

Robin made a grab for Lissa's arm, but his little sister managed to sidestep in time.

"Make what official?" He glanced nervously at the Shepherds who were, to a man, grinning at him. Even Frederick managed to slip some glee past the starch.

"Chrom." Lissa whirled around, her hands on her hips. "You can't go around kissing maidens before king and country without expecting to offer some kind of commitment."

Chrom got to his feet, sweeping up Falchion who had been lying beneath the bench for some reason.

He frowned. "I don't go around kissing maidens."

"Then what do you call that?" Lissa gestured at Robin who looked like she was doing her level best to blend in with the background. Her face was blazing with the same heat he felt in his own, which made him want to smile for some reason.

"I kissed Robin, yes." He cleared his throat in an attempt to marshal his thoughts. "But it's not like she's a maiden or anything."

"Chrom!" Lissa's expression was a combination of shock, horror, and amusement in equal measure.

He sought out Robin, but she'd managed to vanish behind a tree.

"Your Grace, I really must protest!"

"Ha! That'll be _six_ crowns. If there's one thing the Vaike knows, it's to never underestimate Chrom's ability to shove his foot in his mouth!"

"Your Grace, perhaps we should retire to the proper venue for such conversations."

Everyone began airing their opinions while Chrom tried to remember the etiquette for disengaging from such madness. Unexpectedly, it was Virion who came to his rescue.

"You love her, yes?"

Chrom narrowed his eyes, hoping that he wasn't stepping into a trap. He still hadn't forgotten—or forgiven—the dance lessons Virion had given to the Shepherds—Robin in particular. "Yes."

"Then go to her." Virion gave him a meaningful look before shoving him in the direction of Robin's tree.

"But I—"

"Go. Go." Virion made elegant shooing motions with his hand. "We will correct all of the misunderstandings."

Chrom didn't need to be told twice. He darted toward the tree Robin had ducked behind, nearly tripping over her in the process. He hopped awkwardly to the side and ended up demolishing a small, ornamental bush.

She startled, but had almost entirely vanished inside of her coat.

"Robin." He crouched down next to her. His fingers itched to flip her hood back so he could see her face, but he resisted the impulse. "Are you in there?"

_No!_

Almost as soon as her fingers appeared, they vanished back into her sleeves.

At least she was still talking to him. There were so many things he wanted to ask her. So many things he'd seen through Falchion's eyes that he hadn't understood.

The one thing he'd caught for certain was that she'd come back to him.

To home.

"I missed you. While you were gone." He moved so he could sit beside her. It didn't matter how long she retreated into her coat, he would be here for her when she emerged. "Frederick tried to distract me with extra paperwork, of all things, but it made me miss you even more. Did you know you smell like parchment sometimes?"

To his surprise, Robin lifted her hood just enough to look him in the eye before she dropped it back down. If his eyes weren't deceiving him, she looked a fraction less fiery.

Her glare had still been in place though.

"Mostly you smell like a good storm during the harvest."

Robin peeked at him again, a look of consternation on her face.

"And then when Lucina came and told me you were missing . . ." Chrom clenched a hand around Falchion's hilt. "I don't think I've ever felt so afraid in my entire life."

Robin tipped her head to the side so she could eye him without coming out from under her hood. _Lucina?_

He couldn't help but smile when he thought of their daughter. There was so much of Robin in her. "Ah, yes. Lucina is Marth's real name."

_She told you her name?_

He nodded.

For some reason, this seemed to upset Robin. She went from looking like a tight ball of purple fury to something that had been left out in the rain.

Alone.

In the dark.

"Robin?"

When she didn't respond, he put a tentative arm around her shoulder, drawing her into his side. When she didn't protest, he shifted so he could tuck her head next to his cheek.

"Are you all right under there?"

It took him a moment to realize she was shivering, and another to realize there was no earthly way she could be cold.

"Robin?"

Carefully, he maneuvered his hand to cup her cheek beneath her hood, surprised to find it wet.

"Robin, I—is this about the kiss? You have my word that I never meant to hurt you."

For some reason, this only made things worse.

Chrom brushed his thumb against her cheek, completely at a loss. He was fairly certain she wasn't angry at him anymore, but beyond that he had no idea.

What to do?

Emm never let them see her tears, so there was no help there. And Lissa . . .

Hmmm.

He glanced in the general direction of Robin's face. Since they didn't have any tea and scones on hand, he'd have to try the other thing.

Right.

In one fluid motion, he hooked her legs over one arm, cradled her with the other, and stood. Robin reflexively wrapped her arms around his neck, which made everything that much easier.

Then he began to spin in a circle, slowly at first, but gaining momentum. She was a lot lighter than he remembered, only slightly heavier than Lissa.

He could feel the words she wanted to say but couldn't due to the death grip she had around his neck.

"Lissa used to have a hard time sleeping at night—especially when Vaike convinced her an invisible bear was living in her wardrobe," he explained. "The only way I could get her to feel better was to twirl her around until we were both too dizzy to see straight."

Chrom closed his eyes. He wasn't happy that Robin was unhappy, but he couldn't deny how . . . nice it felt to hold her in his arms.

He didn't realize he'd made a serious tactical error until his foot caught on something.

His eyes flew open as he stumbled backwards, Robin's extra weight making it impossible to find his balance. Chrom tightened his hold on her and braced himself for impact.

Instead of flattening another bush, he landed squarely in the middle of what he presumed to be a duck pond due to the flurry of quacking and storm of feathers.

Fortunately it was not deep, but they both managed to get soaked completely anyhow. Robin let go of him long enough to flip her hood up so she could breathe.

They stared at each other for a long moment before she started laughing. It struck him then, with water streaming down their faces and some kind of plant tangled in her hair, how beautiful she was.

Chrom couldn't remember who started the kiss, but that wasn't what was important. As he expressed his thoughts on the matter far better than he ever could with words, he was relieved to find Robin every bit as enthusiastic.

Perhaps he should have jumped in a duck pond with her sooner.

"Seriously Chrom?"

He almost dropped Robin when his little sister's voice startled them apart. To his horror, everyone from the garden had simply followed them here.

Lissa snickered at him, and even Emm looked like she was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

"I can explain."

"It would seem, my dear brother," Emm said, her lips twitching, "that the only thing to do is to make your engagement official."

"My . . . engagement . . . ?"

"That is, so long as there are no objections," she added sweetly.

A few of the courtiers looked like they were sucking on green lemons, but no one present opposed the match.

Emm nodded, looking every bit as satisfied as Lissa did—which meant they were going to tease him mercilessly from here on out. Chrom turned his attention back to Robin. Whatever his sisters came up with, it would be worth it.

"Then I shall have the marriage banns drawn up immediately."

The Shepherds cheered, and rather than waiting for him to come to them, a good number of them jumped into the pond to offer their congratulations.

"You're all right with this?" he murmured.

Robin gazed into his eyes for a small eternity. Something flickered in her eyes before she nodded.

Then, to make certain there was no misunderstanding, she leaned toward him and gave him a kiss of her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured that the fact that both Robin and Chrom were involved (re:engagement) meant this would be more interesting than the typical fairy tale elegance usually associated with True Love's Kiss. They did not disappoint. :p (Bonus: having your whole family there, cheering you on. 0:))
> 
> When I was writing this, I had a loose plan to do a kind of reverse Sleeping Beauty. Which I guess it still kind of was-just with a little more twist than I'd originally anticipated. o.O
> 
> The next chapter will consist mostly of unapologetic Chrobin fluff-but it will likely be the last "slow" chapter for a while, because there isn't going to be much down time due to Emm being kidnapped, trying to rescue her-Oh, look! Nowi and Gregor!-and so much more. Also, the enchantment currently impaling Robin is going to present some complications of its own. :D
> 
> Thanks again to all of you! For reading. For commenting. For sharing. For just being there. FRACTURED is a better, stronger story because of you. Thank you! Have a great week!


	39. Chapter Thirty-Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

Robin sneezed hard enough to displace a decade’s worth of dust, along with a number of small countries.

She lunged for the maps, hoping against hope than none of the librarians had been close enough to witness the carnage. Fortunately the parchment had been well preserved and—save for a single bent corner—they escaped unscathed.

“I thought I'd find you here.” The smile in Chrom’s voice belied the stern expression on his face.

Robin straightened, gathering her books and papers together guiltily. The consequence for her earlier ducking was a raging head cold. Her pride forbade her from seeking out the healers over something so inconsequential. Besides, she had plenty to do. To catch up on.

A cold hadn't stopped the third Exalt from repelling a swarm of feral wyverns, and it wouldn't stop her from working out a plan to keep the current Exalt and her family safe.

 _Did something come up?_ she asked right before she sneezed hard enough to displace a lung. Or possibly two. Three at most.

“You might say that.”

Chrom sat down across from her, and for the first time she was glad she'd caught a cold. The high color and burning in her cheeks could easily be blamed on said cold. That fluttering sensation in her heart was another matter entirely. Good thing it wasn't even remotely visible.

She raised a brow.

“I've received a number of reports that my tactician has ignored her orders to report to a healer.” He kept his face carefully blank, but he could never hide the laughter in his eyes.

Robin let out a sigh of relief. Nothing serious then. They’d doubled the guard and varied the patrol timetables, but she wouldn't be happy until Emmeryn was safe for certain. It had been bold of Plegia to send assassins after her in her own castle.

Too bold.

“You doubt me?” Chrom placed a stack of reports on top of her maps.

Robin pursed her lips. _There's a break in the communication line, because I haven't received the orders in the first place. Either way, I'm perfectly fine._

She managed to mute her sneeze into her sleeve, and moved to set the reports aside before something about them caught her eye. The first couple of pages were filled with Frederick’s impeccable script, each one detailing her orders. The reports beneath those, however, ranged from barely legible chicken scratch to elaborate loops and squiggles. Who knew Virion flourished in penmanship as he did in person?

_I haven't seen half of them since yesterday. How on earth did they know . . ._

Chrom leaned forward, placing his hands on hers. “You're one of us, Robin.”

It had been a whole lifetime since she'd worried about her place, and yet it wasn't until Chrom had reminded her that those words finally slipped into place.

And now this cursed cold was making her eyes water horribly when she should have been outlining a foolproof plan for keeping Emmeryn and her family safe.

Something the Plegians would never even think to anticipate.

“I should probably ask you when you slept or ate last, but I have a feeling I already know.”

 _I'll stop by the kitchens when I get a minute_. She smiled at Chrom, partly to prove her sincerity, and partly because she simply liked looking at him. There was something about him that meant home. _We can even do a picnic if you like. I have a list of things they serve for lunch somewhere around here . . ._

Chrom gave her an odd look. “Robin, what time do you think it is?”

She shrugged as she mentally recalculated a new deadline for herself. A few more hours ought to do it. Then all she had to do was present her plan and figure out a way to convince Emmeryn to go along with it. She should probably try it out on Frederick first.

_Mid-morning?_

Chrom blinked at her, then shook his head. He scooped up a sheaf of papers and held them just out of reach. “It was, when you holed yourself away in here. Two days ago.”

Robin stopped trying to get at the maps. Two days ago? That couldn't be right.

She would have noticed.

The sunlight—

Why hadn't she—

She sat back, frantically taking tally of the hours she remembered. There couldn't have been that many. Dread wrapped itself about her lungs.

She couldn't—

Surely—

She hadn't lost time by forgetting it . . .

. . . Had she?

“Robin.” The softness in Chrom’s voice made it past her stricken mind, and she found she could breathe again. When she looked at him, he sighed. “I had hoped that if I gave you enough time you'd be ready to discuss things. I think I underestimated your work ethic.”

Robin frowned. _You say that like it's a bad thing_.

Chrom looked at the maps again, glanced at the stacks of books clumped together both on the table and on the floor. “Whatever it is you've been working on, I hope the goal isn't world dominion. Foreign monarchies don't consider it to be in keeping with good manners, although a few of the courtiers might throw their lot in with yours.”

 _Noted. I’ll get around to that at some point_. She made a face at him. _But first, I want to make sure your sister and all of you will be safe. It was beyond arrogant for Plegia to attack her here in what should have been her stronghold. They must have had a reason—_

Some of the playfulness went out of Chrom’s expression. “You've been working this whole time for a way to keep Emm safe?”

She nodded, giving him a look of her own. What else did he think she would have been—

Chrom suddenly appeared by her side. Caught her by the shoulders. Brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek. Then, before she could inform him that she was likely contagious, he pulled her into his arms.

Some of the tension in her shoulders melted away, and her eyes started watering again. Even so, there was a happy little peaceful feeling uncurling inside her, and despite all that still needed to be done, she was more than content enough to relax for the moment.

“How much do you have left?” Chrom pulled back enough to gaze into her eyes.

Robin sighed. _Too much. Even if a regular standing army had been in place, there's a million things I need to cross reference and check against our more modern maps, rules of war, and stages of engagement. Trying to build an army on top of that . . ._

She shook her head.

Chrom worked his mouth for a moment. “You're never coming out of here again, are you?”

 _Silly_. She nudged him with her shoulder. _Someone's got to tell you what to do when you stand at the head of the Ylissean troops_.

For some reason that made him smile. Robin narrowed her eyes, sensing she had somehow stepped into a carefully laid trap . . .

Surely he couldn't have—Her eyes widened as she recalled a certain village they'd visited. Virion! She'd recognize his tactics—

“Precisely why I've come. We need you, Robin. _I_ need you. Taking your stubbornness into consideration, I figured we'd waste more time trying to haul you into the healers’ ward, so I came prepared.” He pulled a vial out of his tunic and held it out to her.

She made a face as she took it, holding it carefully between a finger and her thumb as though it might explode at any given moment. Judging from the slimy texture and the rancid green color, Robin was willing to wager a month’s wages that Lissa had had a hand in this.

“Should you fail to take your elixir, I'm afraid I really will have to haul you off to the healers’ ward. Lissa won't give me any peace otherwise.”

Robin raised a brow. _You're telling me that you fear your little sister more than you do me?_

Chrom grimaced. “I _meant_ to tell you that I love you and will do all I can to take care of you, but I suppose your interpretation isn't too far from the mark.”

She eyed the vial, her stomach already curdling. Why was it that elixirs and concoctions had to taste horrible in order to be effective? Maybe Miriel could be persuaded to take some of her experiments in a different direction.

Speaking of Miriel, hadn't she given her some paperwork to fill out?

“The sooner you swallow, the sooner it's done.” Chrom's voice softened to just the right pitch that somehow, _somehow_ the elixir looked slightly less disgusting and microscopically more digestible.

 _One day I will have my revenge_ , she promised. If Miriel could develop better tasting medicine, the opposite was likely possible as well.

Chrom’s face lit up, and she found she couldn't hold the elixir against him. His sister, however, was another matter entirely.

“If drinking bog water is what it takes for you to be at my side, then I'll happily drink all the bogs in Ylisse dry.”

 _There's only half a bog in Ylisse at present_.

He laughed. “Somehow I knew you'd know that. The sentiment still stands.”

Robin made a face at him before pinching her nose and downing her medicine. It tasted every bit as horrible as she thought it would. She gagged silently as the slime coated her mouth, her throat, and her stomach.

Waving the empty vial at Chrom, she meant to give him a vivid description of what it tasted like, but he was looking at her in a way that was at once soft, yet determined. He brushed a lock of hair off her cheek, tucked it behind her ear.

Suddenly Robin couldn't quite remember what she was going to say. As his eyes searched hers, she forced herself to ignore the burning in her cheeks, and she leaned toward him.

Chrom pressed his lips against hers, and silly things like colds, the stability of the Halidom, and checkmating Plegia didn't seem quite so urgent after all.

All her worries and cares floated somewhere off at a distance. Chrom smelled of clover and home. And although her eyes had drifted shut, she could feel the laughter in his smile, could sense the warmth in his expression.

Which was everything she needed.

Chrom rested his forehead against hers and laughed softly. “I've broken a few minor rules in coming to see you like this, and now that you're on the mend, I don't want you to pass out from hunger. Come with me?”

Robin cupped her hand against his cheek, still marveling that one person could mean so much. She nuzzled her nose against his.

_You don't fight fair._

He laughed again. “It is my duty to use every advantage I have. It's the only way I stand a chance.”

She smiled as he pulled her to her feet. _So long as your duty’s clear_.

Chrom grinned at her before leading her out of her alcove and deeper into the library. Why on earth—

Oh.

He really did mean to escape prying eyes.

“You'd never think it, but the library holds more secrets than those between the pages of a book.”

Ah. He didn't know. Robin was on the verge of telling him that Lissa had already shown her the secret passage, when she noticed the boyish excitement radiating off of him.

_Indeed?_

He nodded and led her past the tapestry that hid the entrance to Lissa’s shortcut. She was about to nudge him in the right direction when he pulled her through a small opening between two bookcases. He led her into an alcove so small that it could only hold a plump chair and a small side table. With practiced ease, he pressed a small knot of wood on the leg of the table.

Chrom pulled her close to him as the floor around the chair and table rotated. Robin grinned up at him. Now this was a secret passageway!

She squeezed his hand a little when the floor had finished its rotation, leaving them in near total darkness. A thin, horizontal shaft of light twinkled weakly a good number of hands above her head.

“Mind your step,” Chrom said as he guided them forward. “There are some stairs just ahead. Sorry, I forgot to bring a taper.”

Even though he couldn't see her, Robin nodded. She could have spelled a Fire, but without a clear target, the odds of her burning down the passageway instead were a little too high. So she contented herself with the warm glow of holding Chrom’s hand, and despite the mountain of research she still needed to do, she found herself anticipating whatever it was Chrom had planned.

The stairs curved steeply, and to Robin’s surprise, they led down instead of up. She was about to say something, when she realized Chrom wouldn't be able to see what she'd signed.

“This passage is a little roundabout, but I thought you'd appreciate the story behind it.”

She felt him turn his head toward her, and realize he couldn't see her and she couldn't see him. He groaned.

“I'm sorry. I forgot we'd need light.”

Robin squeezed his hand again.

“This is a shortcut to the dungeons. I thought you might like the story behind them.”

Skeptical, but willing to see where this was going, Robin squeezed his hand.

“When Ylisse first became a Halidom, we had developed an impressive navy. Nowadays, the larger ships are little more than a broken memory of their previous greatness, and most who served aboard them have retired as fishermen.

“But when the land was in chaos, and the kingdoms newly formed, Ylisse used to bring her most important prisoners in secretly. The secret passage we went through was known only to the Exalt and the one who built it at the time. Then, as now, there were only two ways to reach these particular dungeons. By passageway or by boat.”

Robin had discovered that it was a lot easier to concentrate on what Chrom was saying when she couldn't see him, but what he’d said didn’t make any sense. At least not as far as a long, overdue supper was concerned.

He pulled her a little closer as they turned a corner. While she didn’t mind the closer contact, it took her a moment to realize why.

The air was at once cooler and heavier, and it smelled of something that reminded her of the mushrooms Frederick had used once when they’d been traveling. And in the stillness, there was a gentle sloshing sound that tugged at her attention.

She stopped walking and was about to write her question on Chrom’s palm, when a faint popping sound broke the quiet and a light with the strength of a hundred candles suddenly burned into view.

Robin put her arm up to shield her eyes, but it took a minute of rapid blinking to clear her vision. When she turned toward Chrom, he appeared to be doing the same.

“It sounded much better in theory,” he said, his delight undimmed by a little temporary blindness. He held out a browned piece of vellum marked with the scorched lines of a Fire spell. “Miriel came up with it, but she said something about this being a theoretical model and therefore to expect the unexpected. I think.”

His expression was so unabashedly happy that Robin couldn't help but smile as well.

“I wanted to surprise you.” He gestured to something that turned out to be a small, shallow boat that had been delicately carved to resemble a flower with five petals. It had been painted a deep vermillion that faded into a golden yellow along the edges.

Little globes of Fire had gathered about the boat, and some were even perched upon the water.

 _It's beautiful_. Now that Chrom had led her over to the boat, she could make out the finer parts of the carving, as well as the ribbons and flowers the boat was festooned with from the bow to the stern.

He held her steady as she stepped into the boat, her eyes drinking in every detail. A basket with a heavenly smell wafting out of it was set in the middle of the boat, while a few brightly embroidered cushions were placed on either side of it. A small bouquet of roses and wildflowers had been placed on top of the basket.

“One more thing.” The boat swayed gently as Chrom stepped onboard. He held out an officious looking card of vellum that was nearly as decorated as their boat. “You might want to take off your coat before you use this. It's another something Miriel created with my sisters’ help. My apologies if you turn into a frog.”

His eyes had been glinting with quiet laughter the entire time, so Robin wasn't sure if he was teasing her or not. Crossing her fingers, Robin slipped out of her coat and set it aside.

“Miriel modified the spell so you don't have to read it out loud.” Chrom sat down across from her. “From what Ricken said, you just have to—”

_Poof!_

Robin had already scanned the card. The moment she read the last word, the card vanished in a puff of violet colored smoke and a thousand tiny lights swirled about them like fireflies.

But more remarkable was the effect the spell had had on Chrom. He was now dressed in a dark navy suit much like the one he'd worn on his birthday. A pale circlet of tiny golden lights rested on his brow, and he looked exactly like Robin imagined a fairy tale prince would look.

“Robin.” Her name was little more than a sigh. His expression had gone soft and dreamy, and it took her a moment to realize he'd held out his hand.

When she reached to take it, she was surprised to find long, gauzy sleeves and a sudden profusion a skirts hampering her movement.

Robin froze as she took in the little crystals that had been sewn along the bodice, the way her hair curled gently around her shoulders, and as she reached up, her fingers brushed against what turned out to be a golden tiara fashioned with milky white gems. She gingerly put it back on her head.

_Miriel did all this?_

Chrom laughed a little sheepishly. “My sisters might have helped some.”

His gaze hadn't left her from the moment the spell had taken hold. Her cheeks burned with this realization, and she was grateful Chrom had insisted she take the elixir. She wasn’t here to tame feral wyverns, and she wanted to look her best.

Robin nodded as she tried to riddle out why everyone had gone to such trouble to create a fairy tale in the middle of a secret dungeon. But no matter which new wonder caught her eye, she found her gaze always circling back to Chrom’s.

“Robin, I—”

Her stomach gurgled, and the sound bounced off the water and stone, amplifying it.

Chrom laughed and shook his head. “I promised you a meal, and a meal you shall have.”

Instead of reaching for the basket as she'd expected, Chrom pulled out another bit of vellum and flicked it out onto the water directly in front of the boat.

Robin latched onto his arm as the water began to froth and boil, rocking the boat with its movements. She was on the verge of trying something of her own, when the froth and bubbles turned into midnight-colored horses with white foam manes and stars twinkling through their bodies.

White silk ribbons unfurled from the boat and tied themselves about the bellies of the water horses. They called out their greetings with voices that sounded like water crashing against rocks before they turned and dove into the water. Their hind legs had been replaced with sparkling fins, but she had little time to marvel as the horses pulled the boat through a wall of weeping ivy.

“Careful.” Chrom laughed as he pulled a few leaves from her hair.

The boat drifted out into a large lake. Chrom hadn't been teasing her about the time. The lights followed their boat, illuminating the way and lending their light to the silvery moonlight that fell all around them.

Somehow her hands ended up in his, with him gazing at Robin as though he would never look away again. She ducked her head to the side as her blush warmed her face. Chrom’s eyes were a perfect shade of blue that were all too easy to get lost in if she wasn't careful.

She wanted to say something, anything really, but she wasn't quite willing to pull her hands away from his.

“I wanted to make this special,” Chrom said, the color in his cheeks muted slightly by the moonlight. “Our engagement was rather sudden, and while I don't regret it, I want to make certain you know that I will love and cherish you above all else.”

The quiet intensity in Chrom’s voice, in his gaze, was what helped Robin pull her hands away to make a promise of her own.

Her fingers felt cold and empty at first, but they warmed as she poured a bit of her own heart into her words. _As I will you. I promise you, Chrom, that even if I should lose everything—forget everything—again, you will be the one bright star that I shall ever look to. The one thing that I will never, ever forget. Not in a thousand lifetimes_.

Chrom leaned forward, cupped her cheek with one hand even as he tugged her toward him with the other. Robin’s heart beat a little quicker as she saw herself reflected in his eyes.

“Ah, Milord. Right on time. I commend you.”

Robin jumped hard enough to make the boat rock alarmingly, but between Chrom and Miriel’s enchantment, they managed not to capsize. But only just.

Frederick watched them with a grim kind of amusement from a smaller skiff that floated a few feet away from their own. Sumia was seated next to Frederick, a bouquet of flowers in her arms. She beamed at Robin and waved.

 _Chrom . . ._ Perhaps she had misunderstood the exact nature of the situation.

“Remember when I told you that I was breaking a few minor rules by coming to see you alone?” Despite the moonlight, his ears were bright red.

She narrowed her eyes and nodded.

“As your engagement has been officially recognized by the court and sanctioned by the Exalt, it is now requisite that you have chaperones to attend you. I shall, of course, serve Prince Chrom while Sumia shall serve as your Lady-in-Waiting _interim_ for this evening, Lady Robin.” Frederick was watching her carefully. The way he had that first morning in Ylisse when he'd been gauging her fighting abilities.

The thought made her giggle, and the awkward pressure surrounding them left as suddenly as it had come. She hadn't had any skills to recommend her then, just as she had nothing now—at least so far as being a Lady was concerned.

But she did know a thing or two about family.

 _If we lash the boats together, it'll be easier to share_.

Chrom gave her a searching look. “You don't mind?”

Robin shook her head. _We're all Shepherds here_.

The look he gave her was more than worth the minor inconvenience of being under Frederick’s all-seeing eye.

“Are you sure?” Sumia asked. “We don't want to impose.”

Robin smiled and nodded. Chrom had claimed both her hands again, and she wasn't willing to relinquish their warmth.

She'd half expected Chrom to pull out another of Miriel's spell cards, but in the end it was Frederick who located the rope and metal hooks and lashed their boats together.

“It's a good thing I packed a hamper as well.” Sumia set her flowers down and produced a basket that smelled every bit as good as the one in their boat. “Mostly just pie, though.”

Frederick cleared his throat.

“Huh? Oh, right.” Chrom handed Robin the bouquet that rested on top of their basket. “These are for you.”

The flowers were a poor substitution for Chrom’s hands, but Robin was willing to go along with it—at least until the pie ran out. Which, given Sumia’s interest in baking, wasn't likely to be any time soon.

When Frederick noticed that Chrom was going to be next to useless when it came to serving the food, he leaned across the boat and took charge of their basket.

Chrom didn't appear to notice as he hadn't looked away from Robin once. Not that she would know that with absolute certainty, of course.

Frederick cleared his throat again, startling them both into looking over at him.

“Milord. Lady Robin.” He managed a respectable bow and gestured to a board he'd placed over the sides where he'd joined their boats. The food, plentiful and abundant, had been arranged perfectly.

Robin had thought, given her stomach’s numerous grumbles and complaints, that she'd be able to eat at least half a bear. But she'd given up trying to avoid falling into Chrom’s gaze and her gut was a mess of butterflies and dragons—all awash in a sea of the deepest blue.

“Milord,” Frederick tried again. “It is customary during this stage of courtship for there to be at least a little conversation.

“Huh?” Chrom blinked, then shook his head slightly. “Oh! Um, er . . . A merchant delivered a few practice dummies a day ago. So far they're turning out to be much more robust than the ones we usually use. I've only broken three so far.”

 _Only three?_ Robin raised a brow. _How many did the merchant give us?_

Chrom squirmed in place a little. “About three and a half.”

_Three and a half?_

He nodded. “One was a working prototype.”

Robin narrowed in on the most relevant word. _Was?_

“It, er, held up for the most part. Until Vaike challenged me to an archery contest. Apparently the dummies aren't proofed against fire.”

She snorted a laugh. It wasn't at all difficult to imagine what had likely happened. _Maybe we could enchant them. A kind of reverse Fire spell. But would you write it backwards or invert the whole thing from the beginning?_

Frederick sighed with all the weight of unmet expectations.

Sumia giggled and handed a small white card to Robin. Robin examined Miriel’s neat, but indecipherable handwriting. The mage had been busy these last few days.

“I'm not sure what it does, but the Exalt told me it was a gift to the both of you. She said to make sure you use it well before midnight.”

Robin had only just cracked it open when a gust of Wind strong enough to hollow out the side of a mountain hit her head on. She had braced herself, but it hadn't hurt. Not really. And once the roar of rushing air cleared away, she could swear that she could hear music.

Faint and tinkling. Like a music box Lissa had shown her in one of the shops.

Chrom laughed softly. “Emm’s usually a lot more subtle than this.”

Wait. Chrom—?

Robin opened her eyes to find Chrom holding one of her hands while the other rested on the small of her back. Before her blush could scorch itself on her cheeks, she noticed that they were floating just above the water in the center of the lake. In the distance, she could see the twinkling lights of their skiff where Frederick was no doubt in a panic to disconnect the boats.

“I suppose it's a bit late to ask, but would you like to dance?”

Robin looked up from where she'd been prodding the air with her toe, trying to work out how Miriel had focused the Wind while looping the spell to repeat indefinitely. But when she met his gaze, all thoughts of magic vanished into a bright sea of blue.

Her more responsible side wanted to suggest that propriety demanded they return to within hailing distance of their chaperones, but her tactical side admired a well-executed plan. With the way the moon and stars were reflected against the lake, they might have well been standing somewhere in the sky.

A sudden shyness fell over her, but she nodded.

Despite the fact they were skimming the top of the lake, Chrom managed to lead her through a respectable waltz. Robin studied him as they twirled in time to the music.

How was it that a single person could mean . . .

. . . Everything, Robin realized with a start.

Chrom had somehow become her home. Her center. The rock she could always lean on. Her memories had gone. She had no knowledge of home or kin, or even her own name at first.

And instead of seeing a potential threat, when Chrom had looked at her, he had simply seen . . . potential.

For good.

He had trusted in her potential for good.

Despite common sense. Despite the terrible dream that haunted her nights with increasing frequency. Despite all of that, he had trusted her.

Not just with the Shepherds, but with his own heart.

“You’re crying.” Chrom brushed her tears away with his thumb. “Did I step on your toes? I thought that with there being no ground, per se, that—”

Robin reached up and pressed a finger against his lips.

 _I love you_.

She had known she loved him. Had even felt that warm burn within her heart whenever she thought of him, saw him, or spent time with him. And she’d felt the emptiness of his absence when they were apart.

But this was the first time she felt the . . . enormity of the feeling. It was like a bewildering mix of Wind and Fire. And it burned so brightly against her hopes, her dreams, and all her secret fears.

Chrom smiled until his whole being lit up. “I’m relieved to hear it. With the engagement and everything, it would be a little awkward if you didn’t.”

Robin’s first inclination was to laugh or roll her eyes, but if she wanted to give him her heart, whole and complete as he had given her his, that meant revealing her fears as well. A heart wasn’t a simple thing with a single chamber. There were doors and rooms and mazes, and if she was going to hand her heart over, none of those doors could have locks.

They swayed in place, right where the moon shone brilliantly against the water. He watched her, waiting.

Taking a deep breath, she decided to start with the easy one.

_What if I hurt you?_

Chrom’s movements slowed as he considered her question. “Then I suppose you’ll have to compose your apology to me in pies. I accept any and all kind, but am partial to blueberry and apple.”

 _I’m serious_. She hated to see some of the amusement dim in his eyes. _What if I hurt you one day? Badly?_

“Robin,” he murmured, “where is this coming from?”

She pressed her lips together and forced herself to answer. _There’s a dream that comes to me every now and then. You and I are fighting this terrible man, but in the end . . ._

She couldn’t bring herself to speak the name of her fear out loud.

How could she explain? The memory of her dream was leaving large red welts against her heart. She couldn’t even imagine what it would do to her if the dream ever became a reality.

“Robin,” he cupped her face in his hands, “it was just a dream.”

She shook her head. _But that’s just it. It doesn’t feel like a dream. It feels . . . It feels too real for that_.

He studied her for a moment. “I trust you, Robin. I always have, and I always will. If your dream is more than a dream, well, we’ll face that reality together.”

 _But that’s the problem. Because of me, you—you—_ She dropped her fingers, the pain in her heart intensifying. Then, because he had to know, she dropped her gaze and forced herself to finish. _I drive some kind of spell through your midsection. Here._ She gently pressed her hand against his chest, just below his sternum, to the right. _And even as you die, you forgive me_.

Chrom gently pulled her against him. He wrapped his arms around her as if to protect her from the horrors replaying themselves in her mind’s eye. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything at all. He simply held her and created a kind of peace of his own.

“I don’t know what will happen in the future. If this dream is more than just a dream, well, we’ll have the advantage going in. You’ll find some way to stop it from happening.”

_But what if I—_

“Robin,” his breath fell lightly against her neck as he bent to deepen the embrace, “whatever happens in the future, I refuse to allow it to rob me of the joys that are here in my present.”

And there they were, just like that, standing in front of her greatest fear of all. She couldn’t look at him as she pushed him gently away enough to tell him her final truth.

 _But what if in loving me you lose the one you gave your heart to in the future?_ The words were knives to her heart. No, not knives. They were the blunted ends of lances, driving themselves through her heart with every breath she took. Was she such a fool to sabotage her own chance at happiness?

But where Chrom was concerned, her happiness _was_ his happiness.

Chrom frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

Robin closed her eyes. She had never felt this small before. _Marth. She has nothing of me in her. I don’t know who exactly she really is beyond your daughter, but I—_

Chrom bypassed her argument and pressed his lips against her own. Lightly at first, questioning. Then, in the interest of giving him all her truths, she kissed him back.

Despite, well, everything, he hadn’t taken his heart back. Instead, he’d curled her fingers around it and pressed it back against her own.

Could she do any less?

Neither of them noticed the skiff that finally pulled up alongside them. Frederick moved to inform them of his presence, but Sumia caught his arm and pulled him back. Shaking her head, she put a finger to her lips.

He furrowed his brow and gestured to the numerous rules being broken right in front of them. As chaperones, it was their duty to ensure the courtship proceeded calmly, rationally, and with all the propriety their station demanded.

Sumia tugged his arm until they’d turned around. Then she nudged him with her shoulder before she sat down. Because she hadn’t relinquished his arm, he had no choice but to follow.

“You can’t protect him forever,” she whispered.

“But our duty—”

“Are there any rules about kissing in the middle of a lake?” she asked, her eyes crinkling with quiet laughter.

“Well, no. Not as such. But—”

“If you were the Captain, would you want someone to interrupt you right now?”

Frederick gave her a blank look. Then narrowed his eyes as he considered the question.

“No,” he sighed. “I don’t think I would.”

Sumia nodded. She picked up a bunch of flowers and quietly plucked a few petals. She’d left a trail of them on the water as Frederick had crossed the lake, and she wondered how many of them would come true.

“I suppose it would not be shirking our duty if we moved—”

“Frederick!”

They both turned around.

“Yes, Milord?”

“She said yes!”

Before either of them could congratulate Chrom and Robin, the spells went out. The twinkling lights and their finery vanished along with the Wind spell.

They had enough time to share brief looks of horror before they plunged into the dark waters. And somewhere in the distance, the bell of the great cathedral chimed twelve times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, apparently it was go fairy tale or go home. :p This chapter was a little difficult to write. I knew the broad strokes of what would happen, but every time I sat down to write, the little bridges that connected them all disappeared. Thanks to your comments on the last chapter, it finally dawned on me why Robin had buried herself in so much work that even a crazy overachiever would balk at everything she wanted to do.
> 
> She was a little scared and overwhelmed with everything that had happened, and was running without realizing it. Once I figured that part out, everything went smoothly. So thanks to you all! :D The characters really took over this chapter, and I'm glad they did. I had no idea there was another hidden passage, and was trying to decide whether or not Robin said anything about already knowing about the passageway when Chrom took things into his own hands. And Miriel dabbling in some of the relatively obscure Chon'sin magic? Yes, yes she is. o.O
> 
> I really wanted to give Robin and Chrom some well deserved alone time, but taking the Shepherds into account . . . Yes. Frederick the Chaperone has been glowering disapprovingly in the back of my head for the entirety of the last two chapters. :p Continuing with the fairy tale tradition, Miriel's spells would last until midnight. Unfortunately no one ever reads the fine print. :p (I did learn, however, that Robin doesn't know how to swim. Fortunately the lake is made of water and not trees. Also, Chrom does know how to swim. 0:))
> 
> A special thanks to all of you for stopping by, reading, commenting, sharing, and everything in between. You guys are awesome, and I am very grateful to be trekking through this story alongside you. :D Have a great week!


	40. Chapter Thirty-Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.
> 
> Surprise! I wanted to celebrate all of my awesome readers. :D Thank you for your time, your comments, and for coming along for the ride. I hope you enjoy!

Robin tugged at the ribbons trailing down her sleeves, frowning. She was missing something, but what? She closed her eyes as she went through that night moment by moment.

Marth saving Chrom, only to have part of her identity revealed.

The heart pounding race to the castle.

The sound of metal scraping against metal, a sound as out of place in the castle's halls as she was in courtly social situations.

Like curtseying to the court to make her and Chrom's engagement official.

"You know," Lissa said, giving her a meaningful look, "I could always fetch a second elixir. Just in case."

Robin dropped the ribbon and pushed the past aside to focus on the present. She could still taste the elixir she'd forced down a few hours ago.

_No need. I'm perfectly fine_.

"Yeah, yeah." Lissa smoothed her own brightly polka dotted skirts down. "That's what they all say."

_Lissa . . ._

The princess turned to Sumia who had been weaving ribbons and miniature roses into Robin's hair.

"You'll find that as a healer it's just a matter of time. Mostly you just have to out wait them."

"Really?" Robin's hair was in full bloom, and Sumia had run out of places to stick more flowers. "But wouldn't it be better to treat the symptoms when they first appear?"

Robin whuffled a sigh, only to be sharply prodded back into the 'proper posture befitting one of her newfound stature.' She glared at Maribelle, who was giving her a look of her own.

"Now that your visibility extends beyond that of being a simple Shepherd, you have a duty to those you serve."

Despite the whiff of disapproval in Maribelle's expression, Robin couldn't argue her point. There were several responsibilities she'd neglected to attend to, and she was determined to rectify that.

She pulled a little sachet she'd cobbled together out of her bodice. It was just large enough to fit her smallest, thinnest book, a vial of ink, and a stylus. She made a small notation to move up visiting her land in person, blew on the page, and then stuffed everything back into the bag.

Lissa laughed while Maribelle was frozen with a look of horror.

"You . . . You . . . Surely you don't intend . . ."

"I think if you tie this to your belt, it might be a little easier to access," Sumia said. She took the sachet from Robin, picked a ribbon, and managed to tie it in such a way that it didn't look like Robin was wearing her pockets on the outside of her skirts.

_You've done this before._

For some reason, Sumia blushed. "My uniform doesn't really allow for pockets, and I enjoy reading, so . . ."

_You do?_ Robin leaned forward. _What kind of books?_

She hadn't been too keen on the idea of having a lady-in-waiting, but it would be nice to have someone to talk books with. Chrom read, if he had to, and his eyes tended to glaze over when she waxed too long over some historical minutiae or other. And while Miriel read as much as Robin did—if not more—she rarely ventured out beyond research papers and applied magical theories. Plus, she was always on the lookout for "volunteers."

It was always safest to maintain a healthy distance from Miriel—especially when she was theorizing experiments.

"Oh, you know . . ." Sumia waved her hand. When it became apparent Robin wasn't going to let the subject drop, she sighed. "I'm reading a lot of historical novels at the moment."

_Really?_ Even better! _Later today, I would love to see what you've got. I think I need a small break from battles and blueprints_.

This admission pained Robin, but even thinking about the stack of maps waiting for her made her head start to throb.

"Are you . . . Are you sure?"

Robin nodded. If she wasn't mistaken, the look in Sumia's eye was that of a kindred bookish spirit.

"Nerds." Lissa snickered. "But at least you look more like yourselves."

_Meaning?_

"Meaning you actually look happy to be affianced to his Highness rather than on your way to the execution grounds," Maribelle sniffed.

_Of course I'm—wait. We have execution grounds?_

The other two laughed while Maribelle gusted a sigh. "I don't know why I bother. Every time I think we've finally succeeded in civilizing you . . . A proper lady gives no thought to execution grounds. And certainly does not display overt glee when doing so."

Robin was about to point out that it had been Maribelle who had brought up the execution grounds, but decided she'd pushed her self-appointed etiquette tutor far enough for one morning. Maribelle was like a frilly pink cat in her own way, and it was never worth antagonizing her too long.

_Thank you_. Robin squeezed her arm. _Though it may seem your efforts are wasted, I would not fare as well without your guidance_.

Court, she was learning, was its own kind of battlefield. And one she was not properly outfitted for. Not yet. But if having Chrom meant having to swallow both her bile and her pride so far as the court was concerned, then so be it.

"Yes, well, be mindful of who it is you represent." Maribelle straightened one of Lissa's bows. "Your duties must be commensurate to your station."

Before Robin could start fretting over that, Frederick appeared in the doorway and cleared his throat. His gaze swept the room as was his habit, but the search started and ended with a particular Pegasus Knight-in-Training.

Sumia's answering blush told her everything else there was to tell.

Interesting.

Did Chrom know?

"Milord is ready," Frederick announced. "If you would come this way, please."

And just like that, all her earlier worries came rushing back. This should be a simple thing. Curtsey to the court, stay focused, have a nice luncheon, and walk with Chrom as he escorted her out of the courtyard and down a path through the city that had been marked for their route last evening.

Then back to the castle where she could shed her fashionable shoes with their treacherous heels and retreat to the quiet of the library.

So why did her middle feel like pudding?

"Lady Robin, if you would—"

"Oh, good. I made it in time." Chrom jogged up to them, white cloak pinned over one shoulder with a sapphire encrusted pin. A thin circlet gleamed at his brow and glimmered through his hair as he moved.

"Milord," Frederick frowned, "you are supposed to be waiting in the courtyard."

"Aw, give it up, Frederick," Lissa giggled. "He's already seen her, so—"

Lissa's voice was swallowed up by Chrom's gaze. He had been smiling before, but he was fairly beaming as he offered her his arm. As Robin rested hers lightly on his, most of her nervousness vanished.

Of course she wished to make a good impression, but Chrom would love her regardless of how many times she stumbled. That was, in the end, the only thing that mattered.

He murmured something about falling into ponds agreeing with her, and before she knew it, they'd made it to the courtyard where the Exalt and both courts awaited their arrival.

"I'll be right here with you," Chrom spoke just loud enough for her to hear. "Every step of the way."

Robin nodded. There was so much she wanted to say, so many things she wanted to tell him. But Lissa, Maribelle, Sumia, and Frederick we're right behind them, and everyone else before them. It hit her then that this was going to be a part of her life. Fortunately it was Emmeryn who was the Exalt and not Chrom, or they would never have any privacy.

Chrom nodded back, gently squeezed her hand to tell her he loved her too, and they swept into the courtyard proper. It had fallen upon Frederick to read aloud the banns the Exalt had already had published abroad.

At first, Robin did her best to focus on what Frederick was saying. The only thing required of her and Chrom was to bow and curtsey at the proper moments, but she wanted to _here_ next to Chrom.

In the moment.

But those fashionable shoes Maribelle had insisted on were already hurting her feet, making it harder and harder to concentrate—especially with Chrom sneaking glances at her when he thought no one else was looking.

Even though everyone was.

To distract herself, Robin allowed a very small part of her mind to wander. Unfortunately it was the part that was still trying to riddle something out of the Plegian attack.

They had come so quickly, easily overwhelming or slipping past the guards placed on the perimeter with ease. And each group had been directly aimed at the Exalt in her own private quarters.

Quarters that were off limits to the normal population.

So how had they known where to go? If the Shepherds hadn't been present at the time, there would have been a good chance that their plan would have succeeded.

Their level of precision would have required a map at the very least, but like all the royal residences in Ylisse, the blueprints for the castle had been carefully destroyed to ensure that no one could stumble upon vital information—like where the ruler lived and how to get at her, and where all her secret bolt holes were located.

Robin swallowed hard as the picture began to fade into view with a terrible sort of clarity. Not only was there at least one traitor, but he or she would be in their midst. No low level servant would have known the castle well enough to betray the Exalt. Frederick had made sure of that from the beginning.

Just as she was starting to panic, Chrom gently tugged her forward. Her body recognized the cue to curtsey, which left her mind free to spin off into a hundred different directions.

Chrom was grinning when he met her stricken gaze. Robin swallowed hard and forced herself to return his smile. He gave her a questioning look before he glanced over his shoulder at Frederick.

Most of the Plegians efforts had been focused on Emmeryn. They'd spared a few for Chrom. But none for . . .

Lissa.

She turned slightly toward the princess who was hurriedly stuffing a frog back into her pocket.

The first assassination attempt had failed. It would have been a novice mistake not to anticipate follow up attempts.

Now that Robin was paying attention to what was happening beyond the formalizing of their engagement, she noticed that the Shepherds had been woven through the courtiers. Well enough, too, so as not to bring attention to themselves.

She glanced at Frederick with approval. She hadn't been alone in her suspicions.

Good.

As Emmeryn stood to speak, something in the light breeze shifted, making the hairs on the back of Robin's neck stand on end. Beside her, Chrom stiffened.

Her eyes immediately went to the sky. To the rooftops and the trees. No one ever thought to look up, which was why—

There!

It wasn't an assassin she spied, but a gleam among the trees where there shouldn't have been any gleams. Robin tightened her hold on Chrom's arm as her eyes traced the most likely trajectory.

Without stopping to think, Robin threw herself toward Lissa, tackling her in a froth of silk and gauze. Something twinkled at the corner of her eye as a line of fire seared itself against her forearm before an arrow shaft sprouted parallel to her head.

The courtiers, who had already been anxious given the recent developments, sprang into action. Most fled toward the safety of the castle, but a good chunk of them stood their ground. The ornamental swords, it would seem, had hardly been ornamental.

"See to the Exalt," Chrom shouted as he drew Falchion.

"Oof. You're crushing me, Robin," Lissa groaned.

Robin scrambled to her feet, pulling Lissa along with her. They needed to get her to safety. As luck would have it, they stood closest to the castle doors, but what if there were more assassins lurking inside?

Frederick was already engaged in fending off a few assassins who had been hiding in the shrubs. And Chrom had his hands full as well. Most of the Shepherds had jumped into tight formation around Emmeryn and were ushering her toward safety.

But they were on the other end of the courtyard.

They needed to keep moving. Moving targets were harder to hit. Where would she go if she were the one planning to ki—to assassinate all the members of the Ylissean royal family.

"Robin, we've got to make sure everyone is okay," Lissa panted as Robin dragged her along.

Zigzag. They needed to zigzag.

Harder to hit that way.

"Come with me."

Robin blinked stupidly at the man who seemed to have materialized out of thin air right in front of them.

He made a noise of impatience. "Stop gaping at me, woman, and follow me!"

Lon'qu.

"Whoa, wait! What are you doing, Robin?" Lissa protested as Robin practically shoved her into Lon'qu's arms.

_Get her to safety_.

Then she spun around, her hand going to her side before she remembered her coat wasn't considered proper formal wear.

Which meant she was basically without weapons or means of helping repel the assassins.

Lovely. Just . . . lovely.

She took another step and nearly twisted her ankle. With a silent roar, Robin bent down, yanked off her fashionable torture devices and hurled them at the nearest black clad intruder.

While she could hardly throw her shoes hard enough to do much damage, her attack distracted the assassin long enough for for Gaius to dispatch him.

"Hey, Bubbles." The thief sprinted over to her. A number of assassins fell as he passed them, a silver throwing dagger seemingly pinning each one in place like human-shaped butterflies. "Glad I found you. Blue's a little frantic, so let's go."

A tome. She needed a tome.

She bunched her skirts together so she could step over a downed assassin.

"Sorry, Bubbles, but I wasn't exaggerating about Blue." Gaius grinned at her before he threw her over his shoulder and darted from one bit of cover to the next.

There were a lot of things Robin wanted to say to him, but her fury dissolved as her mind latched onto a single detail she'd missed earlier.

The downed assassins looked exactly like smears of shadows would look if they'd been somehow given enough mass to become real.

And there were far too many of them, with no end in sight. Where were they all coming from?

Robin thumped her fist against Gaius's back to get him to put her down. If she could figure out the origin . . .

"No can do, Bubbles. Blue was pretty specific about keeping you safe."

Of course he was. He'd have known she was unarmed too. But she wasn't a bag of loot, and she wasn't entirely helpless.

She smacked Gaius again, but he ignored her in favor of dodging around what had started life as an ornamental Bush.

Right. She'd given him notice.

Now to test her theory.

Bracing herself against the thief's shoulder, Robin reached out and caught the thread of space between light and shadow.

And nearly dented her face, courtesy of the wide metal rim of Kellam's armor. Rubbing her stinging nose, she caught another thread.

And then another.

As the world spun between shadow and light, she realized she was slowly spiraling away from the courtyard.

Nice.

Neat.

Spirals.

Biting down on a curse, Robin reversed course. Nature was lopsided and messy. It wasn't neat. And it wasn't perfectly symmetrical.

So who was trying to lead her away?

And more importantly, why?

Robin let go of the thread and hit the ground running. She bit down on a shout when her tender feet slammed against the stone work covering the ground.

She shook her head and forced herself to think. Spirals.

She needed to get to the center.

Strangely, the shadows were deeper there, despite none of the trees being high enough to cast them.

Then she caught sight of a familiar flutter of white. An answering flutter started up in her chest as she sprinted toward it.

Toward him.

The shadows pressed themselves together against her, trying to force her back. She gritted her teeth and pushed back, but her hands and feet sank into the shadows without doing any damage or making any progress. She would have had as much luck beating against a charcoal-colored marshmallow.

Right. There was nothing else for it.

Pressing her lips together, Robin stood her ground so she could do something fairly stupid. Tomes existed for a reason, but she would have to make due.

That's what healers were for, right?

In the space of one breath, she traced the spell for Fire in her mind. Extended her hand a second before the magic ignited.

As Fire balls went, hers was little more than a flicker of light. Hot enough to scorch her palm, but too weak to do much of anything else.

And yet as she held her wrist with her uninjured hand and tried to convince herself that it really wasn't that bad, the wall of shadows before her shuddered slightly.

Pressing her luck, Robin found that if she threw her weight into it, she could move forward a few more steps.

Without giving herself time to think, she called up another Fire.

Then another.

And another.

Bit by bit. Step by step, she forced her way through the barrier of shadows.

Sweat dropped down her face. Her muscles went taut as she strained to push forward.

And her hand . . .

She made the mistake of looking down. The blisters the burns had raised had popped and were weeping against the darkening patches of skin that pooled with blood and dripped from her palm.

Stars were starting to obscure her vision, and most every part of her wanted to stop. Pain tore through her thoughts.

Shredded her into a thousand pieces.

But she couldn't stop.

Not now.

Not yet.

Just a little more.

A few steps more.

She was almost there.

Almost to Chrom.

But the shadows were an endless maze of darkness, and it worried her that she couldn't see or hear Chrom.

He wasn't alone was he?

Oh, don't let him have been alone!

Faster.

She needed to go faster.

The pain in her hand had gone from a dull throb to white hot anguish.

She cried out silently as the Fire no longer fell from her fingers, so much as dripped from them. Burrowing down to gnaw at her bones.

The shadows softened a little more with each step she took, but her arms were shaking so hard, and the pain was making it difficult to think.

But he needed her.

Chrom needed her.

She needed to hurry.

Almost there.

She drew herself up. Prepared one last volley to hurl against the unnatural night.

The spell crumbled to ash in her mind, leaving nothing but darkness behind. She fell to her knees, one breath away from despair.

She didn't cry.

She couldn't.

The Fire had burned all her tears away.

All that was left was this bitter cold.

And his face.

Breath catching in her throat, Robin leaned against the inky wall as she struggled to her feet. It wasn't until she was standing once more that she realized the wall was actually shrinking away from her touch.

Never one to falter before an advantage, she stumbled forward. The darkness faded into fog that had thinned enough for her to make out vague shapes.

Two of them.

Both with cobalt hair, but it was the set of crimson eyes that she noticed first.

"Robin," Chrom's voice came out as a croak.

The crimson eyes cut over to her, and the memories of that night came back to her. She reached with her undamaged hand to clutch the pendant she kept round her neck.

Without blinking, she stepped between Chrom and Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom. She kept her eyes trained on his, never once allowing her gaze to waver.

Chrom put a hand on her arm. Tried to draw her into his side so he could stand between the two of them instead.

Normally, Robin would have acquiesced. When it came down to actual fighting skills, she was still the odd Shepherd out.

But this was another matter entirely.

Her stylus and paper were still tied to her belt, but she didn't dare let her attention wander even that much. And it wasn't like she could write anything down, even if she wanted to. So she just put out her arm as he had countless times in the past.

It was her turn to rescue Chrom from certain death, anyhow.

Despite finding her second wind in the blazing heat of her own temper, it still took everything she had for Robin not to flinch when Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom leaned toward her.

When he saw that she wasn't going to smite him—yet—he placed a gloved hand against her brow.

_Stand aside, Love_.

She shuddered against the cold of his flesh that seeped through his gloves and the chill of his voice rasping against her mind like butterflies with iron wings.

So, now he thought he could tell her what to do?

Fine. Two could play at that game.

She jabbed his brow with two fingers, immediately regretting the action. Swallowing her revulsion, Robin glowered at him.

_I am not yours, and you will not hurt him_.

Amusement was the last thing she expected, but there he was, laughing at her.

_Not until I finish what I've come to do_. His gaze flickered over her head to where Chrom stood, hand on Falchion.

Robin ground her teeth together. _You'll have to go through me first._

He blinked at her as though she'd said something completely incomprehensible.

_All I do is to serve you._

Ha! She met his gaze head on. _Then leave him be_.

Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom pursed his lips as he considered her demand.

"Robin," Chrom tried again.

She risked glancing over her shoulder, giving him a glare that promised dire consequences if he didn't stay put. Chrom's expression verged on mutiny, but he remained in place.

For now.

_Sorry, Love_. Regret dimmed some of the crimson in his eyes.

Before Robin could formulate a reply, he shoved her aside. The shadows swirled up and caught her.

Held her in place.

No! Robin wanted to shout as the shadows swarmed over her, pinning her down.

Chrom shouted as he lunged toward that strange parody of himself. Falchion sliced through the shadows still clinging to the air. Carved a notch in the exposed sternum. He twisted Falchion and yanked her out, but rather than dissolving into purple mist, Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom smiled.

Something about his smile made Robin struggle harder to escape. She recognized that look. But no matter how she twisted and fought, the shadows held her fast.

"What are you?" Chrom demanded, his eyes narrowed.

By way of reply, Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom brought his six-eyed blade down in a whistling arc that Chrom managed to parry.

But only just.

Six crimson eyes.

Robin stopped struggling.

The butterfly.

The key!

Glowering hard enough to burn a hole in the back of his undead head, Robin stopped fighting the shadows and focused on trying to bend one of the wings on her pendant.

Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom froze as the wing bent just the tiniest of bits.

Chrom, sensing an opening, rushed toward him.

Only to be repelled violently by an unseen force when Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom flung his hand out toward him.

Now that she had his attention, Robin redoubled her efforts. She'd regrow her fingers later, if she had to.

Or so she hoped.

Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom cupped her face in his hands.

_You're playing a dangerous game there, Love_. His gaze flicked to her hand and silent laughter glowed in his eyes. _Pray you don't get burned_.

_Hurt even one hair of his head_ , she held up the pendant, _and I will destroy all that this protects_.

He brushed his thumb against her cheek. _Ruthless as the new morning, and cold as the dawn._

Robin frowned at him. Why was there admiration in his voice?

He swooped in close enough that she had to force herself not to retreat into the shadows that stood firmly behind her. _Who would you choose, I wonder. Him or the world?_

_He_ is _my world_.

A hideous grin split across Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom's face. _A god can always invent a new world_. He pressed his against thumb her lip. _All it takes is a word_.

Robin snapped her head to the side, tearing it from his hold. Now that they weren't touching, she could only hope her thoughts were plain in the shade of her glower.

Then, to make sure there was no misunderstanding, she grit her teeth together and pressed as hard as she could bear against one metal wing.

Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom withdrew with the otherworldly grace of the darkness he commanded. He gave her a look that was a promise of his own before he raised his hand.

The shadows rushed over to him.

Rustling like bat wings and brittle leaves.

Cloaked him in darkness.

The shadows that had held her captive were the last to go. They spat her out into a sudden light that blazed against her vision.

Instead of striking the ground, something soft and warm caught her. Robin turned toward it. Her hand was going numb at long last, and she felt so terribly cold.

"Robin." His voice was her favorite sound in all the world.

She smiled as she fell toward it.

Spinning in the darkness, and all around her, was the scent of sunshine and clover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So . . . hey there! This chapter kind of hit like a rabid otter—which is not necessarily a bad thing. Rather than squishing everything into a single mega chapter, I'm going to post each section as its own chapter. And, because this isn't my regular posting day, I get to break all the rules and post tonight instead. :) This is also my way of saying, "Surprise!" and "Thank you all so very much for your support, your comments, and just being there!" *passes celebraory croissants around*
> 
> Historical note: Because of how skirts worked once upon a time, pockets were tied on. Robin has always had her coat, so this wasn't really an issue previously. Until now.
> 
> My master plan for this chapter started simply enough:
> 
> 1) Throw an engagement ceremony to make everything *official* official.
> 
> 2) Remember that thingamajig where Lissa was almost assassinated? Put that in here. Make Lon'qu hate you until he can see past the Lissa cooties.
> 
> 3) Have them decide to relocate Emm.
> 
> 4) ? ? ?
> 
> 5) Profit! *stuffs Anna into a wardrobe with a pamphlet for "Getting the Most Out of Your Destination Vacation: Narnia*
> 
> 6) End chapter.
> 
> I knew things had to get serious enough for them to even suggest relocating Emm. i hadn't expected to see R!Chrom again quite so soon, but it works. I didn't recognize him at first. Not until I noticed that the "assassins" weren't just ninja look alikes. They were shadows.
> 
> Living. Breathing. Shadows.
> 
> Ah. So Grima is about to make another appearance. Alrighty then. I can work with that.
> 
> At which point my characters all jumped me, tied me up, and showed me the proper plot line this part of the story was going to take. o.o
> 
> So . . . R!Chrom. Dang. It was really weird seeing the Chrom-That-Was. He was a slightly different brand of heartless than I'd expected, but he has his reasons. Killing Chrom was his subtle way of telling Robin he loved her and saving the world. Sadly (but good for us!), none of the Chroms are very good at accounting for the Robin Factor.
> 
> Next week: the aftermath and plain, old, regular Chrom.
> 
> Thanks again to all of you most excellent readers! Have a great week! :D


	41. Chapter Forty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

Robin felt so small and broken in his arms.

And her hand . . .

Chrom held her close as he sprinted over to where his sister was healing a wounded courtier.

"Emm!"

Emm's eyes widened as he approached. "Hold her still, Chrom." She took a deep breath and funneled her power through her healing staff. Only when the warm glow of the staff fell upon Robin's still form did she look up. "What happened?"

Chrom shook his head. "I don't know, Emm. We were fighting off the assassins. I thought she was safe."

He never should have trusted that Robin would allow herself to be herded toward safety. It was in her blood to run toward danger. She always had, and likely always would.

He shuddered a little and tightened his hold on her when he thought of that terrible shadow creature with red eyes. It had moved too quickly for him to see more than its most basic shape, but the way it had tangled around Robin, hiding her from view as he searched so desperately for her . . .

"At least this should assure the court of her loyalty to the crown," he muttered, waiting for the light rosy tint to come back to her cheeks. "Although there are those who will still whisper that she was the one who orchestrated it all."

"Chrom." Emm gave him a reproving look, but she didn't contradict him. She knew better than anyone what sort of rocks people carried in hope of striking their scapegoat when the opportunity arose.

He pressed his lips together and stubbornly kept his gaze fixed on Robin's face. She would be all right. She had to be.

Emm sighed. "They are our people. To guide and protect. Despite their flaws—and our own."

"This was supposed to be a happy occasion. I wanted her to—I wanted her to see Ylisse and her people at their finest. As they are. I wanted this to be the first of many good memories in her new position." He bit back the flow of bitter words swelling in his heart. Emm had enough to shoulder on her own, and he didn't want to add to that burden.

But still, he wanted her to understand.

"She has so few memories of her own."

"You underestimate her heart," Emm said, her voice barely above a murmur.

Chrom cupped Robin's face in his hand, reassured that it was no longer quite so cold as it had been before. "Her heart is what I want to protect."

He hadn't been able to stand between Emm and the people she had sworn to serve when they took their hatred out on her. She hadn't even allowed him to properly comfort her the single time he'd found her weeping. Instead she had stood alone.

She had always stood alone—no matter how many stood with her.

He could not bear it if Robin tried to do the same.

"The heart is a funny thing. It is seldom ever content to just be. It is always reaching. Always striving for that which lies just out of reach." Emm laughed softly to herself as she shook her head. "A heart with nothing to reach for falls into indolence and despair. The most beautiful hearts are those that have been polished against hardship. Those who have grown strong, because no matter how many times their hearts break, they gather up the pieces and continue on."

They watched Robin for a moment, silent, as the grayish cast left her face. As the shadows faded and the sunlight glowed softly against her skin.

"I just want her memories to be good ones," he whispered.

"Sometimes the best way to protect a heart is not to shelter it from every storm, but to allow it to go forth as it wills and to be there to mend it where you can."

"Emm, I—"

"She's going to be all right, Chrom." Emm's voice was a welcome warmth against the cold bleakness of the shadows that clung to him still. "You underestimate your own importance in that heart of hers. From all I have seen and heard, her objectives are not that different from your own."

Chrom sighed. "Lissa or Frederick?"

To his surprise, Emm giggled. She wagged a finger as she straightened. "I have my sources. Even were I not the Exalt, I will always be your elder sister—to which certain privileges will always be afforded."

"It was both of them, wasn't it?" Chrom found himself smiling. Emm had always had a way of seeing what was there and saying what needed to be said. He leaned back and breathed a little easier as the last wisps shadowing his heart drifted away.

Emm's smile deepened. "Trust your heart, Chrom. And hers."

"Your Grace!" A messenger arrived, breathless. "The court, they wish to convene at your earliest convenience."

Emm stood, cloaking herself with her normal serenity. "Later this evening will suffice. There are wounded still that must be seen to."

"Yes, Your Grace." The messenger bowed before running back the way she'd come.

Chrom reached for his sister's arm as she turned to go. "Thank you, Emm. I couldn't do it without you."

Instead of her usual peaceable reply, she said, "You are stronger than you believe."

"Emm—"

Robin groaned, and her eyes fluttered open. She stared up at him, the hint of a smile playing along the corners of her mouth. She reached up and touched his face tentatively at first, as though she wasn't entirely certain he was real. Gradually, the dreamy haze in her eyes cleared until she was wide awake.

Her eyes widened, and before he could say anything, she threw her arms around his neck.

"I'm happy to see you as well," he murmured, holding her as tightly as she held him. As though he could physically hold all her pieces together.

Her shoulders shook a little as she burrowed her face into the side of his face. It wasn't until he felt a cool wetness against his neck that he realized she was crying.

"Are—are you still in pain?" It would be a long time before the image of her parting the darkness while the light she brought fed on her flesh faded enough to stop haunting him. "I can have someone fetch a healer."

She shook her head, and went still. Her name was on the tip of his tongue when she pulled away just enough to look him in the eye. Soot smudged her cheeks and he had to force himself not to reach over to clean them off.

Robin's eyes sparkled with stars as she took a deep breath. _I am so sorry! It's all my fault. You almost—_ She pressed her lips together. _I thought he was a friend. I was wrong. I'm sorry_.

She dropped her head and fretted at the charred cuffs of her gown. They crumbled to ash, leaving dark smudges in their fingers froze as she realized her gloves had burned away at some point, leaving behind purple markings on the back of her hand.

Chrom slipped his fingers below her chin and gently raised it until she could see him instead of whatever terrible memories those markings meant to her.

_You know who attacked us?_

Her brows pinched together and she squirmed a little.

_Yes._

_Will you tell me who they were?_

Robin sighed, her gaze going distant. _What did you see when you were fighting?_

Now it was Chrom's turn to frown as he recalled the memory of the hazy figure. _Mostly darkness. Whoever I fought against had eyes like the Risen. I think he was human—at least human-shaped_.

_That's all you saw?_ She fiddled with the ragged ends of her sleeves, but her eyes never left his.

He nodded, and it struck Chrom then that there was perhaps a great deal more to what he thought he saw than he'd first suspected.

_It—he—was possessive of you. At least, that's how it seemed. Like he wanted to hide you from the world_.

He could almost see Robin sorting through her thoughts, carefully weighing each one. Judging by her expression, the ones she found were far from happy.

_He has never formally introduced himself, you understand?_

Chrom nodded. The unhappiness in Robin's eyes worried him more than he liked to admit, but they would fight this thing—whoever he was—together.

_I don't understand how, exactly, but I think . . ._ Robin was watching him carefully now, and he could almost see her mentally hiding herself in the shadows of her coat. _I think he's connected to you somehow._

_Me? How so?_

Robin grimaced as though he'd asked the very question she'd feared.

"Robin," he murmured, pulling her close enough to leave a kiss or two tangled in her hair. "You have nothing to fear, I swear it."

Rather than comforting her as he had hoped, a little more of the light went out of her eyes.

"Robin," he tried again, "you can tell me anything you like, whenever you're ready."

She shifted, her jaw clenched. _He looks a lot like you would ifyou'dbeenturnedintoaRisen_. She buried her face in his shoulder while he tried to work through the last part of what she'd signed.

"Somehow I don't think turtles or raisins figure into what we're talking about."

Robin huffed a sigh, and Chrom had to fight the urge to tighten his hold on her. Especially once she eased herself out of his arms so she could pace properly.

A hundred different expressions played across her face as she twisted her fingers together. She paused every so often to watch him from the corner of her eyes, but then she'd go back to pacing while she muttered silently to herself.

Finally he stood and caught her hands in his own. Waited until she looked at him.

"Is the truth of what we're up against really so terrible?"

Robin froze. Slowly, ever so slowly, she crept out of her mental coat. _He—he looks a lot like you. Except he's a Risen. Also, he seems to be under the impression that we're on more . . . familiar terms. He asked for my help. I thought he was a friend_.

Chrom frowned. How on earth—

A sudden thought hit him with all the subtle grace of a drunk wyvern.

Lucina—their daughter—had come from the future. What if . . . What if she were not the only one?

Which meant . . .

Which meant that he . . .

Bile rose in the back of his throat just thinking about it, but if it was true . . . If he was right . . .

"You said he asked you for a favor?"

Robin nodded. She fished some sort of pendant out from her bodice and held it out to him. It was a jeweled butterfly and quite beautiful.

_This opens a small world tucked away by itself. I—someone who looks a lot like me is sleeping there on a stone slab covered with briers_.

Chrom let out a breath of relief. If Robin and Lucina had survived, then the future was not as terrible as he feared. His ending might not come happily, but if they were all right—

_He asked me to protect her. To keep her safe. I told him I would, at least until he came here_.

"What aren't you telling me?"

Robin made a face he wasn't sure how to interpret. _When he was about to hurt you, I told him I would destroy everything this key protects_.

Something like iron squeezed Chrom's lungs until he could hardly breathe. "And?"

Robin's expression hardened. _He believed that by ki—hurting you, he was protecting me. I believe I disabused him of that notion_.

It was funny how standing right here, drenched in sunlight with Robin, that Chrom could see into that monstrous version of himself well enough to find something he understood.

The need to protect all he loved, even if that meant protecting them from himself.

_He's a fool_ , really, Robin went on, a storm brewing in her eyes. _There is no world, no fate, that would be better without you in it_.

"Perhaps he knows something that we don't."

Robin drew away from him in a single, sharp movement.

_How could you—How could you say something like that?_ The hurt in her eyes was a blade to his heart. He would never purposely bring pain to her if he could help it. _There is no world, no fate, worth having if you are not in it, and if I have to blast some sen—_

"Milord." Frederick was watching them with a carefully blank expression. Chrom knew it well. It was the expression he wore whenever he disapproved of something he had no standing to reprove.

Before Chrom could comment on it, Lucina stepped out of the shadows. Her lips were pressed together in the exact say way Robin did whenever she was determined to see something particularly unpleasant through.

_You're all right_. The look of relief on Robin's face made him wonder what else had happened when she'd been away.

Lucina nodded. "What happened here?" Her gaze flickered to Chrom's.

"We were in the process of having our engagement recognized officially," he said, hoping to give their daughter a nudge in the right direction. They were a family, and the sooner they had all reached that understanding, the happier he would be.

Lucina's eyes widened. "Oh. I—I see. You have my congratulations and best wishes."

Chrom frowned. Was there something she hadn't told him? She had asked for his silence before, as she did not wish to accidentally alter the future. But they were engaged to be married now, so it shouldn't matter if Robin knew.

"We were also attacked by assassins," Frederick said, his brow lowered as he studied her. "They did not appear to be entirely human."

Chrom sighed. Frederick was the first person they were going to have to tell, once they told Robin.

He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that the people who Frederick was most suspicious of turned out be part of Chrom's future family.

Lucina nodded gravely. "It is as I feared." She took a deep breath and faced Robin. "This attack was one of the reasons I returned as soon as I was able. I regret that it was not soon enough."

_The other reasons being?_ Robin asked.

With her disheveled hair, her charred gown, and the soot smudges on her face, she looked paler than usual. Despite their only being mostly official—there would be at least a few at court who would quibble the technicalities—Chrom pulled her into his side.

Her hands, as she reached for his, were like ice, and it was but the work of a moment to settle his cloak around her shoulders. Robin smiled up at him in thanks, and Chrom marveled once more at his good fortune.

"I . . . sensed that you had received great injuries, but I see now that I was in error."

"Not in error," Chrom said before Robin could gloss over the injuries she'd received. He gave Lucina a meaningful look as another thought occurred to him. "My sister healed her not too long ago."

"Lissa?"

"Emm."

"Emmeryn," Lucina murmured in wonder to herself.

Frederick raised a brow and glanced at Chrom who shook his head slightly.

_I was all right,_ Robin insisted. _Am all right_.

Chrom pulled her in a little closer. It wouldn't be long before her insistence for being fine turned into a code that brought every healer in the vicinity running. "That changes things, doesn't it?"

"Milord?"

Lucina pinched her lips together. She glanced at Robin and Frederick unhappily. "I could not say for certain."

"But Emm healed her." The point Chrom was trying to make would not be one he'd willingly drop. "And I'm certain she could do it again if called upon."

A heavy silence fell over them. Why was Lucina still hiding her true identity? And why did she seem so unhappy at the idea that Robin no longer had to rely solely on wherever it was she took her?

_Sumia promised me she'd show me some of the books she's been reading_. Robin's cuffs hadn't really survived the battle, and she was probably anxious for the comfort her coat seemed to give her. She gave Chrom a searching look and squeezed his arm before she gently disentangled herself from him.

He let her go despite his side suddenly feeling cold and empty.

_Could you help me find her, Frederick?_

Frederick frowned, clearly torn between guarding Chrom and keeping Robin from over extending herself again or turning the court on its head if left to her own devices.

Chrom hid a smirk. He hadn't thought of it in that light before, but did their marrying mean that Robin would inherit Frederick as well? Or was it the other way around?

"Milord, if you have need of—"

"I'll be fine, Frederick," Chrom said, waving him away. "Robin's safety is my highest priority. You are one of the few in whom I may trust her security."

_I'm not some shiny bauble_ , Robin signed, her eyes sparkling. _I am perfectly capable of looking after myself. I'm—_

"Fine," Frederick didn't quite grumble. "Point taken, Milord. If you would come this way, Lady Robin."

_Oh, a lady, am I?_ She gave Chrom a look brimful of meaning. Her glance hesitated over Lucina, but her smile was genuine. _I'm glad you are safe. I'm always here if you need anything_.

Then she swept off, his white cape fluttering with her movements as she signed something that made Frederick splutter.

"How bad were they," Lucina asked after the pair had entered the castle through a small side door. "Her injuries, I mean."

Chrom stared after Robin, both his heart and his arms aching to hold her close for just a little longer. "She repeatedly conjured Fire without a tome, and she nearly burned her hand down to the bone."

He turned toward Lucina as she grimaced. Her gaze was turned inward, and from the sour expression on her face, she was likely berating herself far more than anyone else ever could.

Robin had worn the exact same look many times. He sighed. Words would never work once they'd cocooned themselves in all their self-recriminations.

"You bear Falchion." He nodded toward the sword sheathed at her hip. "Would you mind showing me how you wield her?"

"How I wield her?"

"Yes. I know it is an odd request, but I'd like to see what kind of father I was—if you don't mind."

Father. How strange that name felt, especially when in connection with himself. And yet he couldn't help the spark of joy that came from knowing that he had been one in the future.

Lucina blinked at him, and she worked her mouth a few times before she could say, "I would like that very much."

"The practice yard's this way," Chrom said as he started walking. "But then, you probably already knew that. Sorry."

"I don't mind." Some of the pinched look had left her face, and she almost looked . . . happy.

Chrom frowned. What had happened in the future to destroy so much peace and happiness? While Plegia was a problem—especially if they'd been delving into forbidden magics—a single mad king could only do so much damage before common sense reasserted itself.

And, judging by his daughter's bearing and abilities, the future was not without its heroes.

"We used to spar often," Lucina confided as she slipped through the slats of the fence marking the borders of the practice yard. "Particularly when Mother was away."

And just like that, her expression went bleak.

"Did she go away often?" Chrom asked as he led her over to a clear patch with no trees or anything else that might get broken easily.

Lucina nodded. "Especially toward the end."

"And I just let her go?" The thought sat in his heart like bitter fruit. Perhaps he deserved to end life as a Risen.

Lucina regarded him silently, likely weighing how much would be safe to reveal. "Your injury never healed correctly. Even Aunt Lissa couldn't figure out what kind of poison the assassin had used on his blade."

"I let one little injury stop me?" The idea of remaining behind while there was his family and Ylisse to protect was completely foreign to him.

"It was more of Mother forbidding you from setting foot on another battlefield."

Hmm. Some of the tension had gone out of her shoulders. A happy memory, then?

Even so, he couldn't picture himself following that particular order.

"You nearly died once," Lucina explained. "And Mother very nearly killed you after she found out you'd hidden that your wound had reopened. Or so I'm told."

"I've been spared that fate, at least. You have my gratitude." More than she could ever know. "Now, show me what I taught you."

Both Falchions gleamed with sunlight as they faced each other.

They circled each over warily, assessing each other's likely strengths and vulnerabilities. He had a feeling he was going to have his work cut out for him. The future him would have had years more experience to hand down.

With a cry, she came at him first.

Chrom raised his Falchion to parry while he stepped to the side—and hastily pivoted on his heel to avoid being skewered by the future's version of his own blade.

Following in the wake of his momentum, he feinted a slash to the right, and followed up with a low strike.

And each time, Falchion was there. Waiting.

Chrom made a face as he concentrated on Lucina's movements. She _had_ told him that they'd sparred a great deal, and her swordsmanship would have been advanced to have survived whatever horrors existed in the future.

One of which that was apparently him.

"When Robin disappeared before, what happened?" He ducked beneath Lucina's swing, but she did managed to reverse course and slash at him again. "Besides finding someone who looked like her?"

"Sh-she told you about that?"

Lucina paused just long enough for Chrom to knock her blade aside. Rather than ending the bout, he backed up a few steps and watched her carefully, waiting.

"Of course."

He wanted to do something, say something, to lift the weight of all she carried. But he had no power over the future. Still, it hurt a little to watch their daughter mentally sift through her thoughts to find the ones she could give them without obliterating the future or the present.

Lucina shook her head and readied her stance. "The bond between you and Falchion had been pushed to its limits, and we had to use a rather unorthodox method of returning here quickly."

"Unorthodox?"

She grinned at him. "Are you familiar with how trebuchets work?"

"Trebuchets—" Chrom brought Falchion up to block her strike. He frowned. What had trebuchets to do with anything?

"Sometimes you were happiest not knowing." Lucina spun to the left, and used that momentum to cut toward his midsection.

He blocked her in time, but his fingers stung from the force of the blow. "Point taken."

He went silent as they fell into a rhythm of strikes and counter strikes, parries and evasions. It took a moment, but Lucina's movements perfectly mirrored his own.

"Emm healed her," he said, returning to the crucial point. "As have all the Shepherd healers."

His unspoken question, and the hope he dared to entertain, fell into the space between them.

With a sigh, Lucina drew up short and dropped her guard. "From injuries she acquired in this Realm. That is a different matter entirely from the injuries she sustains simply from being in this Realm instead of her own."

"There's nothing we can do to accommodate that?" Chrom asked, dropping his guard in turn.

She shook her head. "Not to my knowledge." She looked like she wanted to say more, but she shut her mouth and pursed her lips.

"All right." He didn't like the answer, but would accept it for the time being. Now, to ask the easier question. "Why didn't you tell her? Robin has already chosen, what fear do you have of revealing your true identity?"

It bothered him, keeping secrets like this from Robin. He didn't like anything standing between them.

Lucina's stoic expression faltered a little. For a moment, he wasn't sure she was going to answer him. Then she sighed and squared her shoulders. Slipped Falchion back into her sheath. "I didn't want to disappoint her."

"Disappoint her?" Chrom asked softly. Lucina had that same fragile air about her that Robin sometimes wore.

She nodded, blinking rapidly as scarlet painted itself across her face. "Mother was often away. She did her best, but it was not often that she could spare the time to attend to less important matters, and she could never afford to simply be a mother."

"Lucina . . ."

She swiped her sleeve across her face. "I wasn't as skilled at strategy as Morgan—" Her eyes widened and she slapped her hands, too late, over her mouth.

Morgan . . . Chrom would have very much liked to ask more questions—and Morgan was a whole degree closer to Marth—but he didn't dare press the issue now. This memory was clearly not a happy one.

Although he wondered how many other children they had traipsing through time and why Morgan hadn't appeared with Lucina.

And what kind of future was it where he was a coward and Robin was cold and distant?

Perhaps breaking the future wasn't such a bad thing after all.

"I'm sorry! I just—"

Chrom bridged the distance between them, catching a stray tear with his thumb. He took a moment to sheath Falchion before drawing her into a slightly awkward hug as her shoulders began to shake.

"Father!" She sobbed into his shoulder.

Chrom pressed his lips together to rein in his temper. She stood stiffly as though receiving comfort through another person's touch was completely unfamiliar.

How could he and Robin have been so twisted out of their present shapes?

"You are not an unimportant matter, Lucina," he murmured. "That you would even consider yourself so—we failed you. For that I am truly sorry. While we can't change the course of that which has happened yet, you have my word that we will move the heavens themselves if that's what is required to keep you safe."

Whatever Lucina meant to say was drowned in a lifetime of sorrows being released all at once.

"The Robin I know would never consider you a disappointment, and she would want to know who you are. She's going to figure it out eventually."

This earned him something that was between a laugh and a sob.

"Stay with us."

She jerked her head up in surprise.

"You have both the heart and the blood of a Shepherd." Then, remembering the early days with Robin, "You have a family, and you don't have to do this on your own. Not anymore."

"But I—"

"The future can hang." Chrom scowled. Stay home, indeed. It would take more than a hundred contingents of Fredericks to stop him from protecting all that he loved. "You are here in the present. You don't have to be alone if you don't want to be."

"I—I have responsibilities, duties—"

"The Shepherds, you will find, do not take 'no' for an answer when one of their own is in need. Neither do Robin and I, for that matter."

Lucina's breath shuddered in her chest. For a moment, he thought she was going to bolt, but she only retreated a few steps. Though weatherbeaten, it was bracing that hope still shone clearly in her eyes.

"I do not wish to complicate matters."

Chrom put a hand on her shoulder. "Complicating matters is a time honored tradition among the Shepherds. You will fit in perfectly."

Her chin trembled a little, but she nodded.

He waited to be sure she stood on steady ground once more. "If you have no objections, I should like to tell Robin."

A light panic drifted across her face, but she nodded. Chrom's resolve to make the future a better one set like stone in his heart. Anything could change—and it would—starting right then, and right there.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I've written Emm over the last handful of chapters, I've had a feeling that she knows. That she isn't just preparing Chrom in case anything happened to her—but that she's certain it will, and has been preparing him to stand in her place all along. T-T I'm really looking forward to exploring the hows and the whys.
> 
> And Chrom. Heh. I'm thinking the Realms are starting to converge upon one another. It tweaked my heart a little when he recognized himself within the monster he'd become (in the original timeline), but found relief in the knowledge that those he loved had made it through. I didn't have the heart to break it to him. And with Grima lurking around the edges of where we currently are in the story, something tells me he's going to learn sooner, rather than later, that things didn't turn out as he'd hoped.
> 
> As for Lucina, I was wondering right along with Chrom as to why she kept her identity secret. I had the feeling that she was afraid she'd disappoint Robin, but didn't really understand until now. The future snapped together with a kind of terrible clarity—right along with the toll the wars with Plegia, Valm, and the Grimleal had taken on everyone.
> 
> So, yes, very much on Chrom's side so far as shattering the future to build something much better in its place. After all, anything can change. O:)
> 
> Thank you so much for stopping by, reading, commenting, and sharing! You all are awesome, and I'm so very lucky to have you. :D Have a great day and a wonderful week!
> 
> * Apologies. I’m a little behind on replying. I should be caught up this weekend. *


	42. Chapter Forty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

Emmeryn liked to believe that people were sensible. Oh, they might have their foibles and failings, but in their deepest hearts lay a nobility that even the darkest night could not erase.

As she looked upon each face of the Ylissean court, she reminded herself that there had been ever so many darkest nights. Too many to count really.

They had not started with her father, and they had not ended with him.

And, as much as it pained her to admit, they would not end with her either.

So she waited patiently as the courts united and put forth their proposal. It was a rare occasion when the courts put aside their differences, put aside their own interests, and focused solely on serving the people of Ylisse.

And yet what they proposed . . . In many ways it was worse than all the stones anyone had ever thrown at her. In giving action to their rage, it allowed those scarred by the darkest nights to begin to grieve properly.

The fury, the loathing, those were simply masks that allowed them to carry on until it was safe enough to bend beneath the weight of all they had lost.

Of all that had been taken from them.

Only after they grieved could her people truly become whole once more. And if that meant they lashed their brokenness against her, then she would stand where they needed her to be.

Even should her heart falter, the duty her brand conferred upon her required nothing less.

"You want me to run away." The words twisted themselves upon her lips, each letter a sword that pierced her heart.

"Your Grace." Lord Rhys was uncharacteristically gentle, "We are not asking you to run. Far from it."

She gestured to the document before her. "Then perhaps I misunderstood your proposal."

His eyes darted to the proposal that bore each of their signatures.

"My removal from Ylisstol to the eastern palace of Hymoreal during this time of strife could not be construed as anything more than a betrayal to those I have sworn to protect."

Lady Carmine stood, her usual fire burning low and dark. "Ylisse needs her Exalt if she is to survive."

"And if Ylisse should fall? The Exalt cannot survive at the expense of the people." Emmeryn still had nightmares of those early days when she'd called all the Ylissean soldiers home. It had been then that she'd sworn to herself that she would be a shield to her people. A vow she'd clung to as they'd pushed and snapped at her, not quite willing to hope that _his_ daughter would forsake the path he'd carved of blood and bone.

And now that she'd proven herself? How could they ever trust her again if she abandoned them to a threat fear counseled her to flee?

"Your Grace." Lord Ashford stood, somehow managing to look more dour than usual. "Had it not been for the sacrifices you have made, Ylisse would not have survived her previous Exalt."

"This has nothing to do with my father." The words passed through the fire in her throat and came out as little more than ash.

"To the contrary. I believe it has everything to do with your father."

The room broke into a sea of whispers, and it took every bit of Emmeryn's self control to remain seated.

"You go too far, Lord Ashford," Frederick growled, surging to his feet in her place.

"We go only as far as we must," Lord Rhys said after glancing at Lord Ashford.

Yimonia and Orithia working together? While the two did not hate each other precisely, neither did they enjoy cooperating with each other. For them, of all people to present a united front . . .

Emmeryn placed her hand on Frederick's arm. His glower intensified, but he bowed and took his seat.

"Bluntly stated, Your Grace, in your father's efforts to serve Ylisse, he also failed to understand that in order to advance, sometimes it is necessary to retreat." Lord Ashford waved a hand toward Robin who had been sitting quietly next to her. "I am certain your tactician would agree."

"Robin?" Emmeryn murmured.

Robin gave her a panicked look before drawing in a deep breath and standing.

It had escaped neither of their notice that Chrom was conspicuously absent.

"Sir Frederick, if you would be so kind as to translate."

"As it please, Your Grace." He didn't look at her as he stood.

Robin's brow was furrowed, and whatever words she was chewing on looked as though they tasted bitter. _Why do you wish to remain here when the enemy has proven how adept they can be in reaching past your every defense?_

Emmeryn sighed. "If they can reach me, then they can reach anyone. I will not hide behind my people or ask them to face a threat that I am unwilling to face."

_So you agree that you are the main target?_

"Yes."

Robin glanced at Frederick before she went on. _If your purpose is to protect your people, then remaining in the midst of them will result in further casualties. By removing yourself, you will force the enemy to battle on your terms—away from those you wish to protect_.

"I . . . You make a good point."

As if the day were not already topsy turvy enough, Lord Ashford and Lord Rhys were giving Robin looks of approval.

Of course this would be the time when Chrom would be absent.

"I agree." The Hierarch smiled gently at her as he stood.

"Hierarch?" Emmeryn breathed. He usually served as a silent witness at court, and could go decades without ever saying a word. That he would speak now . . .

"No one would argue over how selflessly you have served Ylisse, Your Grace. You have ever been the healer, and were we to lose you now, Ylisse would follow soon after." He gestured to Robin before sweeping out a hand to include the court. "The young one has the right of it, and the lords and ladies of your court are fulfilling their duty in both serving their Exalt and the people of Ylisse."

"It seems I have been disarmed," Emmeryn said, her feelings an unusual muddle.

Robin waved a hand to catch her attention, a mischievous glint in her eye.

_This is not a rout, but a realignment of the battlefield_.

Emmeryn carefully smoothed her expression away. Robin's face was hardly a closed book, and she had a glint in her eye similar to the one in Chrom's that appeared whenever he was about to become reckless.

More reckless.

"Oh?"

Robin nodded. _You can't go east, because that will force the enemy to flow into Ylisse, rather than out of it. So you'll have to go west._

"But we have nothing in western Ylisse that would serve as well to protect the Exalt as the palace in Hymoreal." Lady Carmine frowned as her gaze darted to Robin's before settling on Emmeryn.

_It has to be west_. The glint in Robin's eyes was steadily growing brighter.

"Impossible," Lord Rhys said, although he looked to be more than a little intrigued. "We might as well tie a bow around the Exalt and hand deliver her to the Mad King ourselves."

"Perhaps you might explain your reasoning, Lady Robin," Lord Ashford said in a rare overture toward peace.

Robin held his gaze a beat longer than necessary before she turned and addressed Emmeryn directly.

_Do you trust me?_

"Yes." She was only mildly surprised at how easy the answer came. Her brother had done well in choosing both his wife and his tactician—likely in that order.

Robin tucked her smile into the corner of her lips. She darted a glance at Frederick. She grimaced and gave him a silent apology. Then she drew in a deep breath and turned to face the court.

_I'm afraid that will have to wait until the threat from Plegia is dealt with and I am confident that the Exalt will be safe_.

The court's response was immediate. Robin might have caused less fuss if she'd dumped the royal chickens and geese in their laps. Even Lord Rhys seemed taken aback.

Emmeryn was debating over whether she should soothe the ruffled feathers or not when Lord Ashford carried on as though everything was calm and quiet.

"Might we have your reasoning for that?"

Robin nodded once, sharply. She gathered up her papers and slipped them in her pockets.

_The first assassination attempt could not have been carried out without the cooperation of someone familiar with the layout of the castle, knowledge of the Exalt's whereabouts, and an understanding of the shift rotation tables for both the staff and the Royal Guard. I'm certain you can appreciate who might be implicated in this situation_.

She moved to leave, but Frederick subtly pressed his foot atop her own. He shook his head.

A smile twitched itself across Lord Ashford's lips, while the prior furor changed course and amplified.

It was at this point that her brother entered the chamber with Marth.

His eyes widened, then softened as they fell upon Robin.

"What did I miss?"

Frederick sighed. "Your betrothed just informed the court that they are not above suspicion in regard to the first assassination attempt, and as such, will not be given the details for how we shall next proceed."

Marth stepped back, uncertainty in her every line. "Perhaps this is not the best time."

"What? Wait, we agreed that—"

Emmeryn stood, and the room fell silent. "I wish to express my deepest gratitude for each one of you. Your conclusion is sound, and I recognize that you did not present it lightly.

"In the interest of serving and protecting Ylisse, I shall entrust her into your safe keeping."

"Emm, you're not—"

She shook her head slightly, but did not look at Chrom. If she had, it might have been midnight and he five years old again. Both of them trying to grasp what the Hierarch had meant when he spoke of their father.

"I will appoint a small council that shall act as a liaison between Lady Robin and the court. While they may not be able to disclose many details for security purposes, please understand that I place full confidence in all those who are involved."

The lords and ladies murmured amongst themselves, not yet willing to be placated.

Emmeryn sighed. She had never thought, from the first time she stood in this chamber nearly a decade and a half ago, that she would think back to the squabbling and refined chaos of the court fondly.

The crown had only grown heavier since then, and it pained her to find that she harbored an underlying relief that this burden would not be hers to bear for much longer.

Still, so far as battles went, she was happy to fight this one. Despite everything, she would haven given anything to not to have to place the crown upon her brother's brow. He had never wanted it in the first place.

She would miss him and Lissa most of all.

"Let us shine brightest against our adversity as we strive for the good of Ylisse and all her people. Rest well this night, for there will be much to do on the morrow."

She pretended not to see the look of concern her brother gave her as he offered her his arm.

The way to the future was forward. As tempting as it was to look back, there were times when she was a stranger to herself.

Even now as they entered the corridor, her head felt unnaturally light. As though she was separate from herself somehow.

But her heart . . .

That was unbearably heavy. It could not have been otherwise.

Although it was hard to feel morose with the way Chrom shifted from nervous concern to anticipation like light on water. And as for his 'covert' glances over his shoulder at Robin and Marth . . .

"Your Grace and Milord, if you have no further need of me, I should like to go over the changing of the guard as well as check over the guards' schedule."

Emmeryn had learned long ago that this particular knight lived on sunshine and fresh air, because there were not enough hours in the day to include sleep in his schedule. Fretting over this, however, only led to him working harder to prove himself.

"As you will, Frederick, and thank you."

He bowed deeply before striding off toward the barracks.

Robin moved to follow, when Chrom caught her by the arm while securing Marth on the other.

"Emm, do you have a moment?"

She nodded to the footman who opened the door to her chambers.

"Always." She turned her head so they didn't see her smile. Robin was eyeing Chrom suspiciously while Marth had gone white-lipped and stiff.

Chrom being himself, failed to note either. Although he kept stealing small glances at Robin whenever he could.

Emmeryn sat down on her couch and gestured to the chairs next to her. She removed her crown with care and sat it on the small end table.

"I'm afraid I can only serve in the capacity of your sister tonight," she said as she slipped off her shoes and tucked her legs underneath herself. "If you prefer the Exalt, you'll have to make an appointment with Phila in the morning."

"Yourself is always more than enough, Emm." Chrom beamed at her.

There was something in the glow of Chrom's happiness that made her sit up. An answering echo of that feeling she'd tucked away in her heart. She could almost remember the shadow of his smile . . .

Chrom turned to Robin, took both of her hands in his. "Robin, I don't know how to word this properly, and I know it's going to be a bit of a shock, so I'll just come right out and say it." He gestured to Marth who stood frozen by his side.

"This is our daughter, Lucina."

Emmeryn sat up a little more. Ah. A great many things finally made sense.

Robin gaped at Chrom, before directing her astonishment toward the girl that combined the very best from each of them. The ache in Emmeryn's heart turned sweeter as Robin mouthed her daughter's name before pulling her into a tight hug.

Chrom laughed softly before holding out his hand and pulling Emmeryn to her feet. "That makes you Aunt Emm."

All the loneliness and pale wishes Emmeryn had hidden away all turned to ash. Ylisse would flourish, just as those she loved would flourish.

"A better name I couldn't ask for." Save one. But that hope had perished alongside him. "Have you told Lissa yet?"

"I, ah, was trying to do this a little at a time. So as not to overwhelm her." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Lucina, I mean. And Robin."

"I would check your, well, everything, I suppose. I've a feeling it's going to take at least one pondfull of frogs before she'll forgive you."

Chrom made a face. "Don't remind me. Still," his smile wandered back over to Robin, "we must all be willing to make our sacrifices."

Emmeryn nodded, a sudden tightness in her chest. He understood well enough to find the words. Hopefully when the time came, he would remember.

Robin had finally released Lucina, and both were moving their fingers so fast that their conversation became a blur.

_You!_ Robin tried to glower at Chrom, but the corners of her mouth continued to betray her. _How long have you known?_

"Not long," Chrom said, sheepish. "It wasn't entirely my secret to keep."

_You . . . You . . ._

"I'm happy too," he murmured, pulling Robin into his arms.

Emmeryn smiled. Lucina was drinking in the affection of her parents as though she'd wandered through the deserts of Plegia most of her life.

"They have a habit of forgetting everyone else in the room," she offered, just loud enough to be heard.

"Yes." Lucina's eyes were bright with tears she hadn't shed. Then she straightened. "I've . . . I've heard a great deal about you, Your Grace. It is an honor to meet you."

Emmeryn smiled to cover the sting of words that hadn't meant to injure. Naga had spoken truly after all. The past could not be changed entirely, and her fate had been locked in place long ago.

They would be all right, all, of them.

"I am glad to meet you as well. You are a credit to both your parents."

"I've tried," Lucina's words were little more than ash and air. "Before everything . . . ended, Aunt Lissa used to tell us stories of you."

"Good ones, I hope."

She nodded. "You were her hero, and the one she modeled her life after. She wanted you to be proud of her whenever you looked down upon us."

Lucina's voice cracked, and they both fell silent.

Emmeryn blinked her tears away. She would not mourn herself, for she had truly been blessed. And they would not forget her. That was more than any one person could ask for.

"If you are feeling up to it, we should find Lissa." Emmeryn caught Lucina's gaze and held it. "You have brought much joy to us simply by your existence alone."

"Your Grace . . ."

She shook her head and held out her hand. "Please, call me Emmeryn. We are not strangers—not completely."

Lucina nodded and tried the name out silently a few times.

"The sooner we share the good news with Lissa, the fewer frogs there will be in everyone's future." She allowed herself this one small exaggeration. Lissa was perfectly capable of celebrating on one hand and exacting her revenge on the other.

"Of course." Lucina's eyes darted over to where her parents were holding a quiet conversation of their own.

Emmeryn followed her gaze and smiled despite the tempest of feelings stirring in her heart. There had been a few times when she had worried that her brother would never find someone he could love more than the ancient blade sheathed at his hip. But as he stared into Robin's face, a light blush dusting his cheeks, the last wisps of her uncertainty blew away.

"They'll be here when we return, and likely won't even notice we've gone."

Some of the tension went out of Lucina's shoulders. She smiled. "I think I would like to meet Aunt Lissa as myself."

"I have it on good authority that Cookie is making her famous plum tarts. Lissa is never far from the kitchens when they're baking."

Lucina nodded and returned Emmeryn's smile.

Quietly, they slipped out into the corridor. Emmeryn led the way, but her niece was not far behind her. As they took the shortest route to the kitchens, she silently thanked Naga for making this meeting possible.

For while she may, or may not, live long enough to see the birth of her niece, she saw now the woman of valor that little princess would one day become.

No matter what might happen, all would be well to the very end.

* * *

"I demand to be reassigned, man-spawn."

Robin blinked up at Panne, her mind still tangled in a war that had happened five hundred years prior.

_Reassign_ —Oh. Right. Neither Panne nor Gaius had been with them long enough to understand when she spoke with her hands.

Robin looked helplessly at her surroundings. She'd claimed a spot on the wagon where her legs could hang over the tailgate and she could read without worrying about running into things.

Like trees.

Or horses.

She reached for the ink horn she usually kept on her, only to remember that she'd lent it and a fascinating little book on foreign magics to Lissa.

With a sigh, she turned back to the Taguel who was radiating enough hostility that it pierced her dream fogged mind. Slowly and distinctly she mouthed the word, 'Why?'

Panne bristled as though the cause of her irritation was beyond self-evident. "I am fine on my own."

Robin waited for her to go on, but Panne was proving to be nearly as taciturn as Kellam.

Although much more visible.

And fierce.

Prior to meeting Panne, Robin never would have thought it possible for rabbits to strike terror into anyone's heart who was not a head of lettuce.

And yet, here they were.

Where was Chrom when she needed him? Up there with the horses, that's where. Robin shuddered at the memory of a mount that made Sumia's demon spawn look like a cute, fluffy bunny by comparison.

To say nothing of the annoyed bunn—er, Taguel before her.

Robin was still trying to formulate her response when the wagon jerked to a stop.

"Risen up ahead," Lissa called as she jogged up to them.

Panne's ears perked up while Robin thumped her forehead lightly against one of the crates in the wagon.

Of course there were Risen. Of course there were.

As though a stray god had heard her complaint, a streak of jagged lightning pierced the heavy clouds above.

Of course it would rain. Of course it would.

"Is this normal behavior for a man spawn?" Panne asked.

Lissa giggled. "Nah. Robin's just special. But, hey, once you're done banging your head, the Captain wants your input on dealing with the Risen."

Robin took an extra thirty seconds to breathe deeply before she hopped out of the wagon. Now, to prioritize.

_Where's the book I lent you? I hope it isn't somewhere getting soaked_. The look Lissa gave her was guilty enough for an addendum. _And it better not be full of frogs_.

"Now that's just silly." Lissa clasped her hands behind her and toed at the dirt that was swiftly turning to mud. "There's no way you could fit a frog in a book."

Robin crossed her arms and raised a brow. She may not be able to squeeze a few frogs into a book, but she wouldn't put it past Lissa.

"Do you plan on reading to the Risen?" Panne asked. "Otherwise, we should be readying ourselves for the fight."

'In a moment,' Robin mouthed, then turned her attention back to Lissa. The Risen would still be there once she got her book back.

"Oh, um, yeah." Lissa pulled the book out of her apron pocket and handed it to Robin. "See, here's the funny thing—"

_Tell Panne to stick with her partner for now_. Robin slipped the book into her pocket. She'd deal with Lissa and her coterie of frogs after they dispatched all the dead people.

Again.

Figuring it would be safest to be far away from Panne once Lissa relayed the order, Robin headed toward the middle of the caravan where Chrom and most of the other Shepherds were waiting for her.

_How many?_

"A small contingent between thirty-seven and forty-two and a half."

Robin flipped her hood over her head. She really didn't want to know.

_What arms are they carrying?_

"There's a number of lancers, a few myrmidons, and the odd archer or two," Chrom supplied.

Vaike elbowed him in the side. "And a half. Is Teach right or is he right?"

Robin stared at him for a long moment while Frederick gave her the rest of the details. Then she turned her attention to Chrom. His cheeks colored when she met his gaze.

_How fast are they moving and in which direction?_

Before Frederick could answer her, Sumia landed next to them in a shower of wet feathers.

"They're just around the bend, Captain!"

Robin shrieked a silent scream and hurled herself away from the feathered abomination.

"While I don't object on principle, we should probably come up with a plan before we celebrate our victory." Chrom said, smiling down at her. He tightened his grip on her and turned so he stood between her and all those teeth as Frederick gestured to the demon spawn.

"If you come this way, Sumia, Stahl is with the other mounts."

Once she was certain it was far enough away that it couldn't get at her, Robin slid out of Chrom's arms, her face burning.

"You sure you ain't part cat?" Sully asked.

Robin did not like the speculative gleam in Miriel's eyes.

_In light of the weather, mages should stick to Wind tomes. Everyone has their partners, so be sure to remain within visual range of them._

_Fliers are grounded_. Her fingers faltered when she realized their sole flier was over with the mounts.

"I'll fill them in," Chrom said.

She nodded and forced herself not to brush away the spattering of raindrops speckling his face.

_Cavalry, drive down the center while angling wide. Infantry to follow while those of you in heavy armor head to where the fighting is the heaviest._

"Hey! What about the healers?"

_You will ride with Stahl. He can get you to the wounded fastest_.

She was checking her pockets to make sure she had a Wind tome handy, when someone cleared her throat.

"I don't suppose you have room for one more healer."

Robin blinked at Emmeryn while the Shepherds all welcomed her. In the distance, she could hear that lovely sound of a well thought out plan going up in flames.

But no matter how she blinked, the Exalt with the sheepish smile remained right where she was.

Instead of where she was supposed to be.

Which was with the decoy group comprised of the Pegasus Knights made to look like Shepherds, Lucina, and Maribelle who was disguised to look like Emmeryn. The Exalt and her honor guard were supposed to hunker down in a hidden fort while the rest of them drew the Plegians _away_ from Ylisse and the Exalt's actual position.

Meanwhile, the real Shepherds would head east where they would swing up from Breakneck Pass and rendezvous with the Feroxi reinforcements that were already on their way.

They would then sweep west and ensure that every square inch of Ylisse was freed of both Risen and Plegians.

It had been such a beautiful, beautiful plan.

Poetry in motion.

Everyone played their part, and no one died.

Robin tightened her grip on her tome, doing her best to resist a treasonous little voice urging her to Thunder—a very little Thunder. So little, it would be hardly a Thunder at all—some sense into the Exalt.

Her expression must have revealed a smattering of her feelings, as Frederick cleared his throat and gave her a look that reminded her that treason wasn't a road she wanted to go down.

Swallowing her temper, Robin pasted on her best smile that was little more than the baring of her teeth.

_Frederick, protect the Exalt at all costs. You and Sumia both. The rest of you, fall into formation. If we hurry, we might be able to—_

A terrified scream tore through the air.

Robin sighed. Of course there would be at least one civilian between them and the Risen. If her luck got any worse . . .

In the space between one breath and the next, the Shepherds fell into place and charged toward the Risen.

Robin stuck close to Chrom, covering him as he and Falchion carved their way through rusted glory and malice, releasing purple smoke and the cries of dead in their wake.

As they fought, she paid careful attention to the movements of the Shepherds around them. Most of them looked to be doing well together as they found their rhythm.

All except for one pair.

Oh, Vaike and Panne were wrecking havoc where they stood, but they weren't doing it together. And while both were fast enough to avoid the worst of it, they were both sporting a growing collection of cuts and scrapes.

They were just lucky that they hadn't come across any of the archers . . .

With a snap, Robin realized what had quietly been chewing at the edge of her consciousness. She found the most likely angle and followed the imaginary line up to a small crest in the hill.

"I think we're just about finished here."

She narrowed her eyes as she studied a shape her mind told her was impossible. A Risen missing half its head, the bottom halves of both its legs, and a sizable chunk of its rib cage, was lining up its sights. How it could draw a bowstring was beyond her, but the facts were incontrovertible.

She had found Vaike's half of a Risen.

"Robin?"

Squeezing Chrom's arm, she took off running. While the rain had let up a little, the sky was still completely overcast, which meant she'd have to move about the old-fashioned way.

Both her legs and her lungs burned as she forced herself to run faster. Vaguely behind her, she could hear someone splashing after her, but she kept her gaze locked on the Risen.

The bow was larger than usual, and it was a testament to the Risen's strength that it had drawn the bowstring while it lined up its shot.

Robin cried out soundlessly as she her foot hit the ground wrong, and she slipped the last few feet.

"Hey there, Robin. Come to learn how the Vaike—"

With a grunt, she forced herself up as she shoved past 'the' Vaike. Despite the distance, she could have sworn she heard the twang of a bowstring as it loosed an arrow.

Gathering up everything she had left, she hurled herself toward Panne.

The Taguel shouted in surprise as they collided. A second later, a solid thunk right above Robin's heart smashed what little breath she had right out of her.

"Someone get the archer! I need a healer," Chrom shouted. Then he was crushing her in his arms. "Robin, stay with me. Panne's gone to fetch Lissa."

She coughed and tried to push him away enough for her to breathe a little easier. Then a little more forcefully when he seemed disinclined to loosen his grip.

"Robin—"

_Fine_. She coughed again. _I'm fine_.

Working her fingers up to trace the rent in her coat just below the shaft of the arrow, she continued to probe the area. Her fingers froze as they brushed against something small and thick.

They were drenched with rainwater as Panne skidded to a stop right next to them.

"Why am I not surprised?" Lissa said, sliding off of Panne's back. "You're supposed to dodge arrows, you know."

Trying not to panic, Robin snapped the shaft of the arrow, before maneuvering her coat to pull it out on the other side.

The knuckles on her hand turned white as she clamped down on the book she'd lent to Lissa earlier.

Surely, out of everything else the arrow might have hit—

"Robin, what are you . . ." Chrom's voice trailed off into a whisper. His horror, however, turned to relief when she held up the book. It was thick enough that only the very tip of the arrow had penetrated all the way through.

Lissa insisted on checking her anyway, and Chrom didn't loosen his hold.

"I thought for a moment I'd lost you."

She bit her lip as it quivered. _I told you I was fine_.

For some reason, he found this funny.

"Just a little nick. You're lucky the tip wasn't poisoned." Lissa waved her staff over Robin's head.

Robin nodded, trying to focus on the positive. But despite herself, she sniffled.

"Are you hurt somewhere else?" Chrom asked, brushing away a few of her tears with his thumb.

She shook her head, feeling both stupid and tragic at the same time.

"Then what is it?"

Robin tried to shake her head. The Shepherds had all gathered in a knot all around them. She was never going to live this down.

Her resistance crumbled, however, after Chrom pressed his lips to her forehead.

_There are only a few surviving copies. It was only by chance that the merchant had a copy on hand_.

Chrom furrowed his brow. "I don't follow."

Robin held out her book. The arrow had torn through the pages with little regard for the treasure it had destroyed.

"Wait. You're—a book?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, well aware of the ridiculousness of the situation.

"Oh, boy. I'm sorry, Robin. I really am. I didn't mean to spill the ink all over it."

Robin's heart burned a little colder at Lissa's admission. With trembling fingers, she flipped through the book as best she could with the arrow still pinning most of the pages in place.

The interior was drenched in black ink, as though the arrow had pierced its heart.

She curled into Chrom's embrace as a wave of grief crashed against her.

He murmured something to the others, and a few moments later they were alone.

Chrom didn't say anything. He just held her as she cried a lifetime of tears into his collar. Only after her sobs died down did he shift so he could look her in the eye.

"This isn't about the book, is it?"

A burst of anger burned against all that her tears had left behind.

_We failed her, Chrom. We should have been there for her. Protected her. She was alone!_

It was only as the words snapped from her fingers that Robin realized the source of her upset. It hadn't been the gloom of the day or exasperation over so many things twisting into different shapes.

All along it had been guilt.

Guilt and shame for the choices her future self must have made.

When Robin had hugged her, Lucina had stiffened as though she wasn't quite sure how to respond. Even with her entire life being a mystery before Chrom had found her in that field, the amnesia hadn't dulled her ability to take comfort from being touched.

That their daughter could not . . .

Chrom brushed a few more of her tears away and traced the outline of her face. "We can't undo the things we haven't technically done yet, but we can make different, better choices. Choices that will lead to a better future."

_You—you don't think our choices are set in stone? That fate won't have us repeat what we've already done?_

He shook his head, the light in his smile reflected his eyes. "If fate could not be changed, there would have been little point in sending Lucina back in time. But it can, and it already has."

_Truly?_

"Truly." He nuzzled his nose against hers.

Robin wrapped her arms around his neck as the premonition haunting her dreams played out softly in her mind.

Her fingers clenched against the memory of the Thoron. They would change the future—and they would do it together. There was no future for her if Chrom was not in it.

"Ready?"

If not for the small matter of the war, Robin would have been content to stay where she was forever.

But the world would not wait, and neither would mad kings.

She nodded, and then just be sure, sealed their promise with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the few chapters I wrote out of order. Usually I start at the beginning and go until I reach the end. In this case, I knew there needed to be a section before Robin's, but doing it from either Chrom or Lucina's POV didn't fit right.
> 
> And then Emm came along, and everything clicked in place. I really enjoyed writing from her POV-even though it's just twisting the knife a bit for what is to come later on. T-T Her ability to find the silver lining in everything was interesting, because there's a whole well of hurt right below the surface that she never allows anyone else to see. I hadn't realized until I was writing this how much she had wanted to be a mother, and how much love she still holds for the man she was going to marry before he died.
> 
> *sigh*
> 
> It was nice to see a bit of her mischievous side, and for her to be able to meet Lucina as she really was before everything else happens.
> 
> As for Robin . . . *inarticulate muttering* I always forget that she doesn't process her emotions like a normal person. So when something big happens, and she buries herself in work or acts out of character, it takes me a minute to realize, Oh, she's running from her feelings again. . I was waiting, quill poised, for her to mention something about the night before. About Lucina. And . . . nothing. Then when she fell to pieces over the death of her book. (Not that I blame her. I would have likely shed tears over its untimely demise as well.) It's times like these that I'm really glad for Chrom, because he usually has a good idea of what's brewing beneath the surface.
> 
> Next time we'll see the Battle of Breakneck Pass, watch Robin's plans completely disintegrate, meet up with Cordelia, and . . . Emm. Not too long until the Robin Arc. :D
> 
> Thanks again to all of you. I hope you're enjoying reading FRACTURED as much as I am writing it. You all are awesome, and I really appreciate your support. The Shepherds would still probably be at Ylisstol cooling their heels if not for all of you. Thank you! And have a great week!


	43. Chapter Forty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

Despite all her research, all her carefully formulated plans, in the end it was a big pile of rock that was to be her undoing.

Robin had severely underestimated the steepness of the path she'd chosen. You'd need to be part mountain goat to manage. That none of the wagons could follow them through the pass should have been her first warning.

No. Scratch that. Her first warning had been right there in the name.

Breakneck Pass. It was exactly what it said it was.

But she had blithely ignored all those warning signs in favor of speed and distance. This was the most direct way to meet up with the Feroxi troops. And the sooner they turned back toward Plegia, the better.

A panicked shout startled Robin out of her thoughts. She scowled in the direction of the Hierarch. He was ruthlessly apologetic over every shadow he jumped at, every imagined foe that turned out to be the wind rustling through the trees.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. The sooner they were on their way back to Ylisstol for a brief stop, the better.

"Headache?"

She opened her eyes only to drown a little in Chrom's. Like clockwork, the Hierarch shouted before apologizing profusely.

This time it had been a squirrel.

_Why couldn't we leave him with the wagons again?_

Chrom caught her hand in his and pulled her a little closer. "Because he would be completely defenseless otherwise. He isn't used to traveling."

_And whose fault is that?_ Robin huffed, not yet willing to be mollified. Like the Exalt he'd served since she was a child, the Hierarch was another rogue variable wreaking havoc on her plans.

Perhaps being among the Shepherds had spoiled her. She told them what to do, and they did it—or face Frederick's politely worded dressing down that usually involved copious amounts of grueling exercise to ensure future compliance.

Hmmmm.

They watched as the Hierarch fell into a bush. Then, once Frederick had fished him out and got him standing on his feet again, he'd started down the path toward Ylisstol before Emmeryn turned him gently around.

Robin huffed another sigh. The man had been going in the wrong direction ever since before he'd fallen in with the Risen. He was supposed to be in the west with Lucina's group. But, once he'd discovered that Emmeryn wasn't where she was supposed to be, he'd gone off in search of her.

Alone.

Because why not?

Chrom smiled at her and tucked a tendril of her hair behind her ear, lightly brushing his fingers against her cheek. "If you aren't careful, Frederick's going to issue dire warnings against uncouth expressions on the chance that your face might stick like that."

Robin made a face at him, but her glower crumbled the moment she made eye contact. It really wasn't fair how a simple look from Chrom made all the grudges she'd silently been hoarding vanish like mist against the morning sun.

Chrom hummed softly as they gazed at each other. The earth reaching up to the sky. The sky bending down to embrace the earth. In that moment, the world around them had gone so completely still that they seemed to be the only things left.

"Urk! How can you two all be lovey dovey at a time like this?" Lissa groaned. She perched against a tree that was growing out of a boulder and gingerly touched her toes.

"Problem, Lissa?" Chrom asked. He turned, and the sky went with him, but the warmth of his hand in hers almost made up for it.

Lissa grimaced at him. "If my feet didn't hurt so much, I'd stuff a frog down the back of your neck!"

Robin shivered and clutched the top of her coat with her free hand. With Lissa, it was always the frogs.

"Cheer up, Liss. It can't be all that bad now, can it?"

"My blisters have blisters!"

Chrom arched a brow. "After all the marching we've done, this should be just a nice daytime walk."

Lissa growled something before she slipped her boot off and brandished it. "If you're a mountain bunny, maybe!" She groaned as she rubbed her foot.

"Robin?" Chrom turned his attention back to her, and she forced a smile back into her lips. "How are you holding up?"

_Oh, you know,_ she hedged. When his brows drew together as he studied her, she let go of her pretense. _I'm either going to die or my legs are going to fall off, but that's all right. You can bury me in the ashes of a plan that had once been beautiful strategy_.

She darted a glance at Emmeryn and the Hierarch who were cheerfully chatting as though they were right where they were supposed to be.

The traitors.

"Oh! I could, uh, carry you. If you wanted. I mean, if you can't walk and wouldn't mind. I—"

"Hey! What about me?" Lissa waved her hands. She hopped in place while she slipped her boot back on. "You can carry me. For real!"

Robin's scowl fell to pieces, and she couldn't help smiling up at him. Chrom looked as though he'd paid a visit to the fuller's tent and had fallen into a vat of bright red dye.

_I'll be fine_. She squeezed his hand. Unless, of course, anyone else decided to go MIA.

Then it would be time for a new plan. One that grilled the importance of following directions into her captive audience. If she recruited Lissa and Frederick to serve as deterrents . . .

"No, really! I'm serious!"

Chrom just smiled and tweaked one of Lissa's pigtails. "But think of all the character building you'll be doing if you walk."

Character building, Robin told herself. That's what she was doing. If she could persuade Chrom to look at her every few minutes, she might not even mind it.

Even if her legs really did fall off.

"I'll give you character building next time you need to be patched—Eek!"

Robin turned in time to see an arrow seemingly sprout out of the center of the tree where Lissa's head had been only a moment before.

She followed the arc of the arrow in reverse, and loosed a Thunder while Chrom spun in front of Lissa, acting as her shield. Robin loosed another two in quick succession, and then pushed Chrom toward the others.

_We need to get in formation now!_

Chrom nodded, and they all hurried back down the trail a little ways to where the main body of the Shepherds had been taking a short rest.

Sully and Vaike looked up, their grins vanishing as they approached.

"Something wrong, Captain?"

"Assassins. Along the ridge." Chrom turned to Robin. "Plan?"

_Until we know how many archers there are, fliers are grounded_. Robin drew in a breath, cursing herself for not having the right wagons for the pass. It would have been easier for them to stash the Exalt in one while they fought off the assassins.

She grimaced. Normally a skirmish wouldn't be a cause for alarm.

Of course, normally they weren't traveling with the entire royal family of Ylisse either.

_Sumia, have you learned enough to assist Lissa with healing?_

"I believe so," Sumia said without the usual quiver in her voice.

_Good_. Robin took another breath, hoping the assassins had only come in moderate numbers. _Frederick, Lon'qu, keep the healers and the Exalt safe_.

"This way, Your Grace."

"But I—"

_Cavaliers, your mounts will be more bane than boon on this terrain, so secure them safely. Everyone, stick with your partner and keep each other safe_.

Robin had only just finished issuing her orders when a gleam of silver whistled through the air and landed with a thunk to side of where they'd been standing.

She scowled at the ax that had embedded itself halfway up the blade as she pulled out a brand new Thunder tome. While she'd expected to come across pockets of Risen, assassins were another matter entirely.

Especially this far into Ylisse.

Were they just a sliver from the tip of the Plegian spear that had shattered in Ylisstol or had Ylisse been invaded by a foreign army when nobody had been looking?

Robin nodded at Chrom who called out for the Shepherds to advance. Now that there was no use hiding any longer, the assassins materialized. Darker than the shadows they resembled, and radiating a malice that could be felt across the distance between them, they attacked as one.

Robin fell in step next to Chrom, her fingers crackling with Thunder. She flung the spell at an assassin who had come up from behind, catching him just below the collarbone. He flew back and smashed into the side of the mountain, his bones crackling like dry tinder set alight.

They soon fell into a comfortable routine. Lunging, pivoting, ducking, and sidestepping, each one mindful of the gaps in the other's guard.

The assassins fell before them, some to magic, others to the bright sword that gleamed with bloodlust.

So used to fighting Risen, Robin nearly tripped over one of the assassins before she realized they hadn't disintegrated into purple smoke.

These were people, then.

She wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.

"You holding up?" Chrom panted as he shoved an assassin back before sweeping Falchion around to finish him off.

Robin nodded, another Thunder spitting sparks in her hand.

Why was Plegia sending assassins? Why did they insist on restarting a war that had nearly bled two countries dry?

What could they possibly hope to gain?

The questions chased each other in circles in the back of her mind while she concentrated on keeping the assassins far back enough that they didn't even have a chance of slipping past Chrom's guard before a well placed Thunder sent them back to Naga or Duma or whoever it was that waited for the dead to arrive.

By the time they'd accounted for as many of the assassins who had shown themselves, Robin's arms and legs turned to jelly.

She fell back onto a small patch of grass, grimacing as the mountain below the grass reminded her rather forcefully that rocks were not only hard, but unyielding.

The sun had moved maybe a degree or less, yet time had warped or stretched until it felt as though they'd spent a lifetime fighting an innumerable foe. On top of a mountain. Forgotten by time.

Which led her back to her earlier questions. Why start a war no one really wanted to fight? And why send assassins after them, when everyone but those present believed the Exalt had gone to the east?

Maribelle had been more than convincing in her portrayal of Emmeryn.

"There are better places to sleep than on the ground, you know." Chrom smiled down at her before offering her his hand.

_What do they want?_ Robin asked. As tempting as it was to hold Chrom's hand, her questions were gnawing along the edges of her consciousness. An itch she couldn't reach or put a name to.

"Who? The assassins?" Chrom sat down beside her and leaned back on his hands.

_They shouldn't have any idea of your sister's location. If anything, they should be going after the others in the west. There has to be something they want_.

"Some kill for power or pleasure," Chrom said as he leaned his head back to take in the sky. "And some kill for no reason at all. Does it matter, so long as we stop them?"

Robin pressed her lips together. _It might. If we can figure out why they're targeting your sisters—what they're really after—then we can make better plans to keep your sisters safe_.

"Who can find meaning in madness?" Chrom rolled onto his side and propped his head up to look at her.

_You've all alluded to it, but is King Gangrel truly mad?_

"He'd have to be to instigate another war that could only destroy both of our countries."

_Fair enough_.

Even so, there was something tugging at the edge of her awareness. Some piece of the puzzle she was missing, if only she could bring it into focus.

"Milord, if you've recovered, it might be wise to press forward."

Robin hummed silently to herself as she got to her feet.

"Is everyone ready?"

"Yes."

There was something in Frederick's expression that told Robin there was more to the story.

_What aren't you telling us?_

Frederick's face grew as craggy as the mountainside. "The longer we remain in one place, the greater the danger to the Exalt. Assassins don't grow on trees, you know."

Robin blinked at him. _No, I suppose they don't_.

She shook her head to get her thoughts in order. _How many wounded?_

"None. While there were any number of minor injuries, all have been mended with healing staves."

Robin let out the breath she'd been holding. If anything had happened to the Exalt . . .

If they'd had the proper wagons for the pass, they could have rolled the Exalt up in a carpet. No one would think to look for her there, and the carpet would have provided extra protection against arrows or swords.

"Are you going to be all right?" Chrom slipped her hand in his.

She nodded. _I'm on my second wind_.

Thankfully, there was just a small stretch of the pass left to cross. Once they were past that, they'd be able to meet up with the Feroxi vanguard soon after.

The Hierarch was, irritatingly—if understandably—even more on edge than before. Something Robin hadn't thought possible. The man looked as though he'd swallowed a ghost. It was only due to Emmeryn's impervious serenity that stopped him from falling to pieces.

_What, exactly, do Hierarchs do?_ she asked Chrom. He hadn't seemed this nervous at the meeting, or she never would have consented to his involvement.

Not that he'd consulted her when he left his group to join hers.

Chrom rubbed the back of his neck as he sought for inspiration in the sky. "He helped Emm when she became Exalt. Mostly offering counsel and guidance. I think."

_You don't know?_

A blush dusted itself across his cheeks. "I'm afraid I didn't pay much attention to things like that when I was younger."

Robin narrowed her eyes. Knowing Chrom as he was now, it wasn't that much of a stretch to picture him as a child. _Does this have anything to do with you beheading that statue in the garden?_

"What? I, um . . . Possibly?" His blush deepened, which made Robin want to either pull him close or tease a story of his childhood from him.

Or both.

Settling on an appropriate compromise, she tugged on his arm while rising up to her tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheek. Then laughed at his expression and hurried over to where Frederick the Stoic was waiting.

Crossed arms. Deep glower. Stern disapproval.

It was comforting to know that some things would never change.

She nodded at Frederick, who deepened his glower just a bit before he gave the order for them to move out.

"So . . ." Chrom cleared his throat as he sidled up beside her. "About earlier . . ."

She was about to answer when something caught her eye. An indistinct shape was fluttering up near the peak of the pass. The Feroxi didn't use Pegasi, and any of Ylisse's knights would have been in the west, not approaching from the east. So what was-

Robin's eyes widened as the serpentine curves of the shape became apparent.

Wyvern.

That smudge against the sky was a wyvern, which meant . . .

A cold like steel settled in her spine. The Feroxi wouldn't be attacking them, which only left one other source of potential conflict.

Plegia.

She caught Chrom's hand in hers, pulling him toward the front of the column. The cold bled into her belly, crept up into her heart. Of all the plans and contingencies she'd put together, she'd only recorded rough ideas on how to handle wyverns.

Because wyverns very rarely ever came this far east. It was too cold.

"Robin?"

She let go of his hand and pointed to the wyvern up above. _They've found us, Chrom. Plegia has found us_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shortness of the chapter this week. I've been sick, so I didn't get as much done as I'd have liked. The next section is going to be interesting, but I didn't want to push forward until I've found a small detail I can't remember. The goal-oriented part of myself wanted to go forth, trusting in the Muse I have locked up in the attic. But while I was painting the scene with broad brushstrokes, something kept insisting that there's something in that really small detail that will change the whole face of the chapter.
> 
> And, because I keep meticulous notes (ha!), this means I need to go through and re-read FRACTURED all over again, because the detail I need has been impervious to the search function. Literary teflon. It's a thing.
> 
> So.
> 
> My plan is to do the research and work on the chapter this weekend, so I can hopefully post it this upcoming Friday. (And then resume our regularly scheduled program.) It'll depend on how my immune system (which is currently reenacting Sparticus in excruciating detail) is doing. Otherwise, I'll just post it and the next chapter together on the regular posting day.
> 
> I was a little worried when I realized that Robin started to sink into the background a little, especially since this chapter is told from her POV. Then I realized where her attention was focused, and it all suddenly made sense. . Chrom isn't the only one that has a staring problem, apparently. :p
> 
> Anyhow, thank you to all you who stop by. This chapter would still be fluttering around in my mind if it wasn't for you. Thank you! You guys are awesome and I am so very lucky to have you! Have a great week!
> 
> And, because even though it's not ready in its entirety, a brief look as to what's coming:
> 
> *****
> 
> The sun had reached its zenith, and was in the process of falling from the sky as it always did.
> 
> She pursed her lips and sent an irritated glance up at the sky's golden fruit. It was only just ripening, and it would be a number of hours yet before it had ripened enough to leave crimson trails dripping their way to the horizon.
> 
> Her plan had been to meet him then. When the sky was at its most beautiful.
> 
> But they were early, and that useless worm of a Hierarch had done nothing to impede their progress.
> 
> She had had her doubts when her precious father had suggested using the doddering old fool as a spy. It didn't matter what she tasked him with, he was sure to bungle it up somehow.
> 
> And with the way he'd been carrying on, jumping at every shadow--as though she would allow her servants to give away the game before they'd even started. And then leaving a trail of ribbons to mark the path they'd taken, as though the aroma of his mortal stench could be hidden by mere trees and mountains.
> 
> Truly, if her opponents had been even just a little bit smarter, paid just a little more attention, she'd have had to gut them all then and there, and the game would have been over.
> 
> Which would have been a tragedy.


	44. Chapter Forty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the which Lady Grima is feeling nostalgic, Robin is being heroic, and Emmeryn makes her stand. Alternative title: All the World's Sorrows Could Be Solved If Only Robin Had Brought a Large Enough Carpet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

The sun had reached its zenith and was in the process of falling down from the sky in a blaze of glory.

She pursed her lips and sent an irritated glare up at the sky's golden fruit. It was only just ripening, and it would be a number of hours yet before it had ripened enough to leave crimson trails dripping their way to the horizon.

Her plan had been to meet him then. When the sky was at its most beautiful.

But they were early, and that useless worm of a Hierarch had done nothing to impede their progress.

She had had her doubts when her _precious_ father had suggested using the doddering old fool as a spy. It didn't matter what she tasked him with, he was sure to bungle it up somehow.

And with the way he'd been carrying on, jumping at every shadow as though she would allow her servants to give away the game before they'd even started. And then leaving a trail of ribbons to mark the path they'd taken, as though the aroma of his mortal stench could be hidden by mere trees and mountains.

Truly, if her opponents had been even just a little bit smarter, paid just a little more attention, she'd have had to gut them all then and there, and the game would have been over.

Which would have been a tragedy.

No.

Not all of them.

Her useless vessel would need to be protected, of course. And all the brainwashing she'd undergone would need to be reversed. If she hadn't needed her vessel to infiltrate the pathetic band of mortals who thought their puny swords and righteous fervor would solve all the world's ills, she would have brought her vessel back home instead of losing most of her power to suppress the-mortal-that-would-never-be.

But she needed that vessel to get close to them.

To get close to _him_.

Her mount shifted beneath her as a hollow pain lanced itself through the place where her heart used to be.

Despite all she had done to eradicate useless sentiment, something of _him_ remained lodged in her chest like a forest full of thorns.

She leaned forward in anticipation. Even though _he_ served that thrice blighted dragon now, he still smelled of sunshine and clover. She breathed in deeply, absorbing his scent.

Though _he_ 'd been . . . improved, it had not been without sacrifice, and she missed this little piece of _him_ that had been lost to death.

 _Fool. The world belongs to me. What have weeds and sunlight to do with anything of import?_ Her master's voice rasped in her mind, all rusted metal and bitter corruption.

 _Everything. They had everything to do with what was important_.

The air hissed through her teeth, and she clenched her fist against the power she had never been able to destroy completely.

"It was sunshine and clover that brought me to your side, my lord."

She had to quell that power before her master noticed. He was suspicious, but she had been careful.

 _As if you would have ever had a choice_.

She stiffened at his words. She had never stood a chance. All that had been left was death.

And he had offered godhood in its place.

The power to discard death. Not to restore life—that was impossible.

But to see _him_ again.

To feel _his_ gaze follow her no matter where she walked. The safety of _his_ embrace. The comfort of _his_ existence.

That had been a deal too good to pass up, and the fine print had never truly mattered in the slightest.

She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Allowed herself to sink deep into her consciousness so that would be all her master could sense.

When she opened her eyes, the four crimson eyes of her master remained closed. She itched to brush her fingers against her cheeks to be sure, but now was not the time to draw his attention.

She had to be quick.

"Please, I've done all you asked. Protect me!"

The snivelings of a fool brought her out of her thoughts, and she stared at him where he knelt before her, face pressed against the ground.

The worm had finally learned his place.

Although . . . It was lucky for him that she'd cloaked herself in shadows. All they would see was darkness, her love had made very sure of that.

Otherwise, she'd have to gut them all where they stood, which would set things back and all would have been for nought.

And she hated to repeat herself.

"You have served us well, and I do have my orders." One of her captains stepped forward. What set this worm apart from the others was the particular cold gleam in his eye. He knew no mercy, thus he would grant no mercy.

And that had been before he'd even been properly recruited. Of course he hadn't finished his recruitment process. Yet. That could only be done under certain circumstances, and she found herself looking forward to the day when his soul's tortured screams would echo through the valley once they ripped it from his body far enough that he could be fitted for his mask.

The thanatophages could then begin their work—transforming a worm into something slightly more palatable and a hundred percent more obedient.

She breathed in deeply, allowing sunshine and clover to mingle with her happy thoughts.

 _Happy?_ The soft, but persistent, presence scoffed. _Your victory will be a hollow one_.

The words were shards of iron to her . . . well, the tiniest scrap of what was left of her soul. She bit down on her response. To acknowledge was to admit to being provoked.

To be provoked was to then invite attention, something she could never do. _He_ valued that presence enough to risk dying a second time. She had hurt _him_ once, and she would never willingly hurt _him_ again.

She frowned as her vessel, done with talking, blasted a hole through her contingent and both sides began fighting in earnest. _He_ would be upset when the time came, but _he_ would understand.

 _He_ would forgive her.

Heedless of magic and the silver streaks of blades, she dismounted and drifted closer to the battle.

To _him_.

While she watched _him_ fight, admiring _his_ ability to carve _his_ way through flesh and bone, an interesting thought presented itself.

What if she were to take _him_ now?

 _He_ would be furious, of course.

At first.

But _he_ would be alive. Even if _he_ grew to hate her, _he_ would be alive.

She leaned forward unconsciously. It would be easy enough to pluck _him_ from the battlefield. Spirit _him_ away to a place only she knew. A place where she could keep _him_ safe—

Thunder smashed into her, all golden edges, sharp and jagged. An exquisite pain bloomed in the center of her chest. In the shock of her pain, the cloak her love had fashioned for her flickered for the merest of moments.

But it was long enough.

Her vessel went wide-eyed and pale as their gaze locked. She tightened her hold on the shadows, strengthening them. But now that her vessel had seen her, not even the shadow of death could hide her away.

So she waited. Still as a mountain looking down upon a slender sapling that was still wet behind the ears.

Would it have the courage to strike the mountain or would it burn into ash and regret?

To her surprise, her vessel glared at her as though they were meeting as equals. Her vessel's fingers drew complicated figures before she shoved their love away. If her movements had been words, she would have been shouting.

She had only a glimpse of the deep blue sky, brows furrowed in confusion, before her vessel charged toward her, Thunder dripping from her hands like the blood of the dying sun.

* * *

Fear had driven winter into her veins, left desolate her belly. But it had also honed her focus sharp enough that she couldn't be bothered to be afraid right then.

Robin's fingers trembled as the Thunder snapped and crackled in her palm. The moment she released one, she called another to take its place.

Pages of her tome drifted, scorched feathers that trailed out behind her as they curled into ashes, completely spent.

Most of the spells missed their target, but a few splashed against her darkest nightmare.

A nightmare she'd never known she had.

This terrible version of herself—if she'd been dipped in evil and steeped in malice—stared at her, unblinking, as she approached. Her brain nearly shut down from the horror, so she focused on the smirk hiding in the corners of her nightmare's lips.

Rage boiled through her veins, and in the sudden thaw, Robin felt almost strong enough to defeat her.

Channeling fury and fear into determination, she continued to hurl Thunder until she'd become the eye of the storm. Magic raged all around her.

Snapping.

Hissing.

Biting.

But just as Robin drew close enough that her shots no longer missed, the tome in her hand shuddered before it disintegrated into a streak of soot across her hand.

The world froze between one step and the next. She couldn't breathe.

Couldn't move.

Pain throbbed through her being in time to her heart.

Icy dread blossomed deep in her gut.

Without conscious thought, her hand found the hilt of the sword she'd tied to her belt out of habit. It seemed like ages had passed since she'd last trained with it, but regret would hardly serve her now.

Her fingers closed around the hilt, and it scraped against the sheath as she drew it. Robin grimaced, but held her ground.

Sometimes good enough had to suffice.

Her nightmare narrowed her eyes, the smirk twisting into a sneer.

The world narrowed down to a single point.

Red had blossomed where the spells had hit, matching the ruby glow of the nightmare's eyes. The dark violet of her cloak was the only other color she possessed.

Robin allowed herself the memory of Chrom's smile as she readied her attack. Then she charged forward.

Or tried to anyway.

Her feet were stuck fast to the ground, held captive by the same inky darkness that had cocooned her nightmare. No matter how hard she struggled, she couldn't break free.

Her nightmare's lips parted as she grinned, watching. The more Robin struggled, the faster her heart beat, the more pleased her nightmare became.

Words roiled at the back of her throat, all sharp edges and blistering heat. Caged birds that turned against their captivity as they strained to fly free.

And all the while, a steady certainty beat to the frantic rhythm of her thoughts. The nightmare Robin faced was a threat far greater than Plegia could ever be. She needed to deal with it quickly before it could hurt her friends.

Her family.

Her home.

But how?

As fast as her thoughts formed, they broke apart, only to reform a second later in a slightly different shape.

Robin clenched the hilt of her sword in her hand. Without her tome, she stood as much of a chance as the wooden dummies after Chrom began his training session.

She tried to summon a Thunder anyway.

Robin had braced herself against the lash of untamed magic, but she had grossly underestimated the force that burned streaks of white fire through her mind.

She clutched her head, her breaths rabbiting in time with her heart.

She was going to die here, impaled by her own magic. She should have—

A sound like the back of the north wind startled her out of her thoughts. She blinked at her nightmare who had thrown back its head.

Was it . . . laughing?

At her?

A white-hot rage rushed through her, scattering her thoughts until that was all she could see. It wasn't until her sword bounced harmlessly off the nightmare's face that she'd even realized she'd thrown it.

Her nightmare shouted something in a language that sounded like boulders rolling down a rocky slope as it clutched its face with both its hands.

The violet markings below its eyes began to glow with the same ruby color as its eyes.

Her nightmare shouted again, just as a familiar streak of silver arched in the space between them.

Robin turned her glower on Chrom who was giving her the smile of a man who had defeated a mountain pass's worth of bandits, because he had surely followed her orders to focus on the mortal threat while leaving this one to her.

Falchion winked at her as she slashed through the shadows binding her feet, leaving them in smoky tatters.

"You flickered," Chrom said, accusing. His brows pinched together in an attempt at severity, but the corners of his lips continued to betray him.

 _I'm fine_.

Robin turned her attention back to her nightmare, only to find it hunched nearly in half and cowering away from her.

Well that was . . . unexpected.

She smacked Chrom's arm and raised a brow as if to remind him that she had everything well in hand. She crossed her arms, unable to sketch the lie with her fingers.

He'd already noticed her sword, and his lips continued to twitch with the grin he was unsuccessfully trying to rein in. But when she tried to move past him, he stepped in front of her, put an arm out, and shook his head.

"What do we have here?" he asked. He stared at the nightmare, every muscle coiled and ready.

Robin's glower intensified. With the threat not completely neutralized, it could be the death of both of them if she distracted Chrom at the wrong moment, yet he had to look at her if he wanted an answer to his question.

Her silence was thick enough that after a moment, his cheeks colored. "Oh, right."

He took a few steps toward the nightmare, his arm still out to prevent Robin from rushing forward.

Just because she'd been disarmed.

"We have no desire to spill your blood, but you are on Ylissean soil and must be held accountable for your aggression." Chrom slowly crept forward, his eyes never leaving the pale face that was mostly hidden away from him. Though he spoke low and soft, there was a ring of authority in his tone that stirred a few errant butterflies in Robin's stomach.

"If you surrender now, we will see to it that you are dealt with justly and your life will be spared."

Robin frowned as Chrom's voice seemed to stretch from some distance away. Her gaze darted anxiously toward her nightmare. Whether from the trick of sunlight or dark magic, its edges became less defined to the point of blurring into the landscape.

She put a hand to her head as it pounded unmercifully.

"What say you?" Chrom commanded, stopping a few feet away.

The nightmare trembled for a moment before it suddenly twisted toward Chrom. Arms raised, and darkness flowing from her fingertips.

Ignoring Chrom's unspoken order, Robin sprinted toward him. Just as she reached him, she shoved him away with all of her strength.

Time seemed to freeze as she lost her balance and fell toward the ground. The nightmare's fingers passed a hair's breadth from her face. As it pulled the darkness around itself, she caught the blurry impression of two large ruby eyes, with another set halfway opened beneath them.

Then the darkness swallowed the world in a sound like the rush of batwings.

* * *

Emmeryn stood in a shaft of sunlight as she watched the chaos eventually resolve into a victory that never should have been required.

As a healer, the still forms of the fallen, the crimson streaks of the wounded, all stood as a witness to her greatest failure.

No matter how desperately she fought to bring peace and a healing balm to those who had been shattered by war, she could never make it last long enough to make much of a difference.

What was the point of bearing the crown if she could not protect her own people? If she could not come to peaceful terms with those who stained Ylisse's soil red?

"Not yet, Your Grace." Frederick put out an arm to prevent her from moving forward to attend to the wounded.

"If not now, then when?"

He sighed, his eyes never leaving the battlefield. "Once it is completely safe."

She drew herself up. "I am a healer."

"Aye. You are also the greatest treasure of Ylisse."

She shook her head gently. The greatest treasure of Ylisse was currently strapped to her back and hidden beneath her mantle. When she had made her presence known, she hadn't had the heart to place any more of a burden upon those who fought for Ylisse.

Emmeryn also hadn't missed the spark of Thunder in Robin's hand before she was able to rein in her surprise. Thinking of that now, she smiled.

"It is my duty to protect Ylisse and all her people."

"And it is our duty to protect the Exalt."

When she opened her mouth to counter his argument, Frederick shook his head and seemed to take strength from the bones of the mountain.

"There is also the matter of Robin."

She blinked at him in surprise. "Robin?"

His glower deepened the lines on his face. "Since falling under Robin's direction, we have had our share of wounds, but none have been serious and no one has been lost." He sighed again. "Save for Robin, herself."

Emmeryn gazed out at the battlefield. Most of the fighting was over and done with, and all of their original number remained. "You misunderstand me. I trust Robin or she would not be serving in her present capacity."

Frederick's lips quirked into a starched smile, and Emmeryn felt her face begin to burn. He was too polite to say anything, but he didn't have to. She'd taken matters into her own hands and acted against Robin's direction. A fact she was going to have to own up to regardless.

"There is also the matter of Robin's temper."

She raised a brow. "Is it so very terrible, then?"

"It is . . . a thing to behold," he said, straining the sharp edge of his diplomacy. "And not something I would willingly evoke without just cause."

Emmeryn narrowed her eyes as she caught sight of golden pigtails bobbing to and fro among the wounded. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Lissa was a healer too.

Pressing her lips together, she shoved the despair away. She would play her part with every beat of her heart—which meant letting go of some of the things she wanted to cling to most. The Shepherd Lissa stared at whenever she thought no one was looking had done an admirable job of keeping a wide radius around her sister clear of both weapons and bandits. The whole time, they'd been orbiting around each other like the sun and the moon.

Emmeryn most definitely approved, despite the Feroxi's unusual malady.

As for her other sibling—

Emmeryn's eyes widened at the sight of Chrom sprinting toward them as though he was being chased by all the wyverns of Plegia. He was clutching something in his arms.

No. Not something.

Someone.

"Frederick!"

Somehow, between her shout and the next breath, Frederick had swept her up into the saddle, and his mount was already galloping toward them.

Frederick muttered something about the Robin Exception as he expertly brought his horse to a stop just as they drew up alongside them.

"What happened, Chrom?" Emmeryn asked as she swung herself down and began to take stock of Robin's injuries.

"I don't know," Chrom said as he tried to catch his breath. He knelt down, and held Robin in his arms. "It all happened so quickly. We'd cornered . . . something, and . . ."

Emmeryn noted the scorch marks on Robin's coat. It looked as though whatever had caused the burns had splashed against her, with the majority centered around her thoracic region.

She gently grasped the edge of the coat and slowly peeled it back, grimacing at the smell of charred iron. To her relief, it didn't look like the fabric had stuck to the wounds.

As for the wounds themselves, bright crimson splotches bloomed like roses beneath the coat.

Chrom muttered something under his breath she pretended not to hear as she focused on the pulse beating with butterfly wings against Robin's throat.

"Do you know what caused her injuries?" Emmeryn spoke soft and low. Her brother's world rested in his arms, and he had gone nearly as white as a sheet.

He shook his head. "By the time I got to her, she'd already thrown her sword."

Emmeryn raised a brow as she channeled her power through her staff.

"Robin's methods are somewhat . . . unconventional," Frederick murmured. "That particular tactic is one she generally reserves for when all else has failed."

Before she could respond, a soft swoosh sounded over their heads as Sumia landed her pegasus next to Frederick's mount. Lissa tumbled out of the saddle, her power already gathering in the stone atop her staff.

"It'll be okay, Chrom," Lissa assured him. She looked over her shoulder at Sumia. "This'll be good practice for you."

Sumia nodded as she approached. She took a deep breath, and whispered something as she began to channel her power. It started small at first, little more than a spark. But the crystal on her staff slowly began to glow soft and golden.

"Indeed." Miriel appeared, a somewhat abbreviated version of a healing staff in hand. "I have been looking for opportunities to render theory into practice."

She tapped her staff smartly against her open palm before aiming it at Robin.

Emmeryn watched silently as the rest of the Shepherds appeared one by one. They stood quietly—for Shepherds—and waited. She had always thought her brother had an excellent eye for potential, but it wasn't until now that she realized just how deep those bonds ran.

Slowly, and bit by bit, Chrom was gathering a family one Ylissean at a time. Her earlier fears and disappointments faded until they'd completely gone.

Peace could come in many different shapes and sizes, and what greater peace was there than that of family?

The shield she carried seemed to grow warm with her recognition, and all her troubles turned into still water. Ylisse would remain and thrive, because she was more than dirt and solid ground. She was something they all carried in a quiet corner of their hearts.

Something they would all one day recognize at a glance.

A little color came back into Chrom's face as Robin's eyelids fluttered open, and the Shepherds let out a collective breath.

"I thought we had an agreement about heroics," Chrom murmured, his eyes drinking in Robin's expression.

As though his voice had broken a spell, the Shepherds wandered away in clumps to find a comfortable spot to rest before they carried on.

"Lissa is training you to heal?" Emmeryn asked as she stood.

Sumia blushed and nodded. "I wanted to be of better use, and she said I had the ability."

Emmeryn smiled, remembering the first time she'd picked up a staff. "You do, indeed." Then she turned to the mage. "Your experiment was successful, I hope."

The sunlight glinted off Miriel's spectacles. She carefully packed her staff into her sleeve. "That will remain to be seen, but I anticipate favorable results."

Emmeryn couldn't help glancing back at Robin from the corner of her eye. While Miriel enjoyed relative obscurity in all but the most academic circles, she was responsible for any number of inventions that blended science with magic and made life easier for many.

The unintended consequences of her experiments, however, were another matter entirely. It had been a difficult year when—thanks to Miriel's improved fertilization techniques—the farms that grew food for the castle could only produce boiled cabbage regardless of the seeds they had planted.

"We look forward to your results," she said, smiling.

Just as she had made up her mind to check Robin for any residual magic that might cause her mischief later, the swoosh of feathered wings swooped down from overhead once more.

Emmeryn's eyes widened as Phila dismounted, followed by a young Pegasus Knight with scarlet hair.

"Your Grace." Phila's normally stern expression had increased tenfold.

"What happened?" She was careful to keep her expression neutral. Phila should have been in the west with the others, and her companion should have been guarding the border.

Emmeryn took a deep breath as she felt fate twist about her until she could hardly breathe.

To her surprise, it was not Phila who spoke, but the Pegasus Knight.

"Plegia has crossed into Ylisse, Your Grace. And even now there is a band not even half a day's journey behind us."

The girl was young and looked to be around Chrom's age. Her expression remained impassive, although from the tight line of her mouth and the anguish in her eyes, it was not without a struggle.

"What do you mean, Cordelia?" Phila's expression turned grim. When she met Emmeryn's gaze, she hurried to explain. "We have only just joined up. I came to find Prince Chrom one your absence had been discovered, Your Grace."

The pain in Cordelia's eyes turned bright as she took a few shaky breaths. Despite her valiant effort to conceal her feelings, tears streamed silently down her face. When she spoke, her gaze was fixed and distant as though she was caught in some terrible memory.

"They're gone. All gone."

Phila's narrowed her eyes. "Who is gone?"

Despite the urgency of the matter, Emmeryn held up a hand to forestall Phila's questions.

"There shouldn't have been so many at the border. Even so, at the beginning we thought this would be nothing more than a small matter. We even repelled the first wave." Cordelia's lips curved up into a bitter smile. "But then he came at the head of an army far greater than our own. We never expected the King of Plegia to lead the attack."

The unease that had been slowly winding around Emmeryn turned cold as she and Phila exchanged a look. She knew better than anyone that Gangrel lacked sufficient reason to keep his impulses in check.

The final battle Ylisse and Plegia had fought had broken the man even before he'd stepped forward and seized the crown. It was only years later that Emmeryn had learned that his entire family had been put to the sword.

"We must turn around," Emmeryn said, knowing all too well that it was likely already too late. "Once we arrive, we can strengthen those who remain."

At her words, Cordelia's expression shattered. "There is no one left."

"What? Surely not all of your sisters—"

Cordelia's shoulders shook. "Once we saw how it would end, they forced me to leave them behind." She met Emmeryn's gaze, her voice little more than a whisper. "I can still hear their screams."

Something inside her seemed to break right then, and she clutched her stomach as she bent over.

"Phila, Frederick, attend to Chrom."

Emmeryn knelt down next to Cordelia. The girl's grief had overwhelmed her, and there was nothing she could say that could temper it. So she held her as she'd held her siblings those difficult first days after they'd learned of their father's fate.

Cordelia's body shuddered as her sobs tore themselves from her throat. She tried to speak, but her words had truly deserted her. Even so, Emmeryn hadn't forgotten what she'd said. As a healer, it hurt to know that while she had the ability to heal any ailment of the body, she had no power to heal those who had been injured in their hearts.

Just as Emmeryn would never be able to forget the cries of those that remained after the final battle when she'd snuck out of the castle to heal them, the cries of Cordelia's sisters would find her at odd moments and in her dreams.

Time would not heal her heart completely, but it would offer a reprieve every now and then.

The shield she'd strapped to her back seemed to warm, and she felt a quiet strength flow through her limbs. Emmeryn drew in a few deep breaths, letting go of her sorrow and regrets. They would only hinder her ability to act.

Gradually Cordelia's sobs began to soften until she was no longer shaking or making any sound at all. Just as Emmeryn had decided the storm had been weathered, she heard footsteps approaching her from behind.

"Emm?"

She looked over her shoulder at Chrom. She had done her best to keep her thoughts from her expression, yet in that single glance, her brother's jaw tightened.

"Emm, no."

Emmeryn sighed. She would think she was losing her touch, but her brother had always been able to see through to her heart.

Lissa peeked out from behind him, her knuckles white as she gripped her staff.

Cordelia sniffled and glanced up. Her eyes looked dazed at first, then they widened as she rocked back on her heels with a gasp.

"Y-Your Grace! I—I didn't mean! I'm sorry!" The poor girl had gone bright red with embarrassment.

Emmeryn shook her head. "It is I who am sorry."

Cordelia shot to her feet and backed away slowly. Emmeryn watched her, bewildered. Though she was clearly addressing her, why did the Pegasus Knight seem to be staring at a fixed point a little to the left of her face?

"I . . . I . . . Please excuse me, Your Grace!" Before she could say anything else, Cordelia hurried away. As she was headed toward Phila, some of Emmeryn's concerns were lifted.

"You can't do this, Emm." Chrom caught hold of her arm the way he used to when he was younger and still afraid of the dark.

"What is it that you think I'm going to do?" She gave him her warmest smile, but that did little to soften the iron in his expression.

"Phila told us what happened at the border."

Emmeryn smiled softly. She had worked through her turmoil and found peace enough to let go, but it had never occurred to her that there would be others who would have to let go of her as well.

"You aren't going to go back there, are you Emm?" Lissa asked, her eyes wide.

"I need you to stay here with Chrom," Emmeryn said, sidestepping the question. "It is imperative that you meet up with our allies as soon as possible."

Chrom glared at her. "You can't fight the entire Plegian army by yourself, Emm. We need to get you to safety."

"And what of my people?" She forced herself to meet her brother's gaze. "They need me."

"We need you too!" Lissa's chin trembled as her eyes went suspiciously bright.

A crack shivered itself across her heart. She hated more than anything that she was the one responsible for the desperation in their eyes.

"You'd be walking into a trap," Chrom said, his voice low. "And once that trap is sprung, I have no confidence that we could rescue you in time. Without reinforcements, we would all be walking to our deaths. What of your people then?"

Fate squeezed her a little tighter.

"That is why you must continue your journey. The Feroxi have no way of knowing that speed is of the essence otherwise." Emmeryn smiled at her brother. "While the crown is a heavy thing to bear, I have faith in you and in all of Ylisse. We must rise to the occasion as best we can. Only then can we leave behind all our regrets."

Chrom's voice cracked a little, right along with her heart, "You speak as though you are already gone."

Oh how she wished the world was a simpler place! Where she could hold them in her arms and sing away their fears as the night fell. She had never imagined then that she would look fondly back at those times.

With a deft movement, she slipped the shield out from beneath her mantle. Their eyes widened as she held it out to Chrom.

"All will be well. I truly believe this. However, my station demands that I take certain precautions. The Fire Emblem is Ylisse's greatest treasure, and I am entrusting it to your care." Emmeryn paused long enough for the fire building in her throat and burning in her eyes to recede enough for her to carry on. "So much blood has been shed for this, and it is my hope that it finds a better protector in you than it has in me."

"Emm." Chrom stared down at the shield she'd placed in his hands.

"Please let me come with you. I can help with the wounded!" The lost expression on Lissa's face nearly undid her.

As it was, Emmeryn could not leave them without one last embrace. While she hoped to see them again, she was not a fool. Gangrel had already attacked and neutralized the border. He would be heading for Ylisstol next. If she did not hurry, more Ylisseans would needlessly die.

She wanted to comfort them, to tell Chrom and Lissa how much she loved them. Promise a victory and a happy ending for all. It would have been so easy to spin fairy tales with a few simple words.

But she loved them too much to lie to them now. And the longer she delayed the inevitable, the greater the wound her leaving would inflict upon them.

"May Naga bless you and keep you well. Be safe." Having said all that she could, Emmeryn gently untangled herself and stepped away from her brother and sister.

They would meet again, whether in this world or another, of that she was certain.

Anchoring herself to that hope, Emmeryn squared her shoulders and walked out to meet her fate face to face. The burdens of her heart would be lifted one way or another.

"Phila."

"Your Grace?"

"It is time for me to journey home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the unplanned hiatus. I got sick the week I was due to post this chapter, and it's taken me a while to be able to get back on my feet. I'm happy to report that I'm now passably human. :p
> 
> When I was writing this chapter, I hadn't planned on Lady Grima doing anything more than noticing Chrom. Heh. Turns out not even death or time can break the bond that those two share. She had originally come to me as a cold-blooded vessel wholly taken over by Grima. I'm happy that a small remnant of the original Robin remained, and that Lady Grima and Grima aren't completely synonymous. Things are going to get interesting once Grima realizes there's more than just his voice bouncing around in her head. O.O
> 
> With Robin's section, I'm working on building up the foundation for how everything works in regard to her. I want to make sure everything is in place before her arc officially begins. Not long now. :D
> 
> And Emm! Gah! As far as I'm aware, this is the last time the story will be told from her point of view. I really wish Robin had brought a really big carpet they could roll her up in to keep her safe. It's funny how that now she's walking toward her final stand, a whole slew of her "memories" unraveled as I was writing-which only made me want to roll her up in a carpet even more. Her section took the longest to finish, mostly because there's a part of me that really doesn't want to write what's coming-even though some of the scenes are the clearest in my mind of any that remain for this story. I hadn't expected to feel as close to her character as I do, but that's Emm for you. :)
> 
> Thanks so much for your support and patience! My mind has largely been fried pudding, and it was thinking of you that helped me through the brain fog and writer's block. I really appreciate all of your comments and the fact that you could be doing anything, but you've chosen to explore this story with me. Words fall so very short, but thank you with all of my heart.
> 
> PS: I'm a bit behind on answering comments. I'm hoping to catch up soon. Your comments mean a lot, so I like to put thought into my replies. Unfortunately my brain, at present, bears a remarkable resemblance to week-old oatmeal. o.O


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